Unforgivable
by Baked The Author
Summary: Before the Horcrux hunt can properly begin, Harry and his friends have the carpet pulled from under them, resulting in desperate measures; meanwhile, Bellatrix juggles teaching her apprentice while trying to keep her Lord's empire from falling apart; "The rules of war?" she asked, pressing her wand to the clerk's temple, "What rules?" FIRST TIME READERS, READ WARNING
1. WARNING: READ IT

_**READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING**_

 _ **WARNING!**_

 **This story contains various forms of highly graphic content of the mature variety. It has more than earned its M-rating, and is sitting on the fence of an MA-rating. If you are under the age of 16, it is HIGHLY INADVISABLE you read this story without a (responsible) Parent or Guardian's permission. Expect to be denied. This story is not for the innocent.**

 **For those age 16 and older, reader discretion is** ** _strongly_** **advised. If you see something you don't like here, don't be a hero; back out, read a fluffy romance or whatever your cup of tea is, and forget this story ever existed.**

 **Consider that your first warning. There will be subsequent warnings at the beginning of each chapter that contains morally subjective material.**

 **Carpet Disclaimer:  
** **The Harry Potter franchise is the property of the estate of Dame J. K. Rowling, Knight of the British Empire, and her affiliates, of whom I don't belong. This story is written for the entertainment of the masses, not for profit, unless you can call emotional gratification payment.**


	2. 1

**ALSO, READ THIS:**

 **It has come to my attention that the previous warning was insufficient. Therefore, I will warn all of you at the beginning of each chapter if said chapter has content which is unsuitable for anyone. Which WILL be VERY OFTEN. This story is likely the darkest thing I'll ever write.**

 ***grumbles*Damn insistent muses and relentless plot bunnies...**

 **Therefore...**

Looking back on this first chapter, I have found myself... shocked, I suppose, that I am capable of writing something so... _heinous_. Quite frankly, when it comes to reading this story as a whole, this first chapter is actually **unnecessary when it comes to understanding what follows**. The events contained within are mentioned often enough in the next few chapters as to rend it inert, at least for those who are still innocent.

What I'm trying to say is... you don't have to read this chapter. You can hit the next button, treat Chapter 2 as Chapter 1, and only be _mildly_ confused as to the progression of events. Honestly, I won't think less of you if you do, but if you _do_ want to read this chapter, go ahead. **You've been warned**.

The reason I'm telling you all this is... well, when you get the shakes from reading your _own work_ , months after writing it (and let me tell you, that was a painful process in and of itself, as I genuinely like the Trio), you worry for the reader. As such, there is a **SPOILER** below for those who don't wish to read about such things, but still want an accurate accounting of the events detailed in this chapter.

As always, reader discretion is STRONGLY ADVISED. Proceed AT YOUR OWN RISK. Finally, I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THIS; this story is written for the entertainment of the masses, nothing more.

 **~Baked**

 **-Edited 6/20/2018**

 **. . . . .**

 **Unforgivable  
By BOFS  
[1]**

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 **[** **SPOLIERS:** The story is the same as canon until the arrival of the trio at Grimmauld Place, after Bill and Fleur's wedding. They are ambushed by fifteen Death Eaters, who mutilate Harry, rape Hermione, and torture Ron into catatonia, before Harry manages to call Dobby, who kills all but one of the Death Eaters on a distraught Harry's orders; the trio barely escapes with their lives. Bellatrix Lestrange investigates, discovers what happened, and orders the Death Eaters accompanying her to find the trio and those responsible at all costs.

You can now proceed to the next chapter without being mentally scarred. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower. (shudder) **]**

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 **[1]**

 _Crack!_

Harry checked himself over, making sure he didn't splinch himself as he, Ron and Hermione appeared on the top step of Number 12 Grimmauld Place; his two friends did the same, both looking a bit shaken from the impromptu skirmish at the muggle diner. Flicking his gaze about the square outside the Black townhouse to make sure it was clear of potential threats or pursuers, as Ron unlocked and reached for the door, Harry figured a cup of strong tea was in order after all the exciting events of today.

First, there had been Bill and Fluer's wedding, which had been quite nice in Harry's opinion, a good thing amidst all the bad that was plaguing the Wizarding World; he could have done without seeing Viktor Krum, though, and the conversation with Doge and Ron's Great Aunt _still_ seemed a little surreal. Still, he'd been able to dance with Ginny, and Ron had looked the exact opposite of the Yule Ball with his newer dress robes, dancing with Hermione while he spoke with Doge. It had been a good reprieve, in Harry's opinion.

Then Kingsley's Patronus had shown up, bringing news of the Minister's death, and everything went to Hell.

A change of clothes and a run-in with two Death Eaters later, the trio had decided on returning to Number 12 and using it as a base for the Horcrux hunt; as Harry entered the foyer behind Hermione, shutting the door behind them, he hoped they would find some clue to help them along.

"Bit dusty," observed Ron casually. And it _was_ , Harry thought, a thin layer covering every surface; he wondered idly what Kreacher did around the house, if not clean.

As Harry and Ron made to move further into the house, Hermione stopped them, "Wait," she bade them, drawing her wand, " _Homenum-"_

" _Expelliarmus!_ " a wall of red spells rushed at the trio, from the stairs and further into the house; Hermione was knocked onto her back, wand flying from her hand, Harry and Ron falling onto either side of her. Harry reached for his wand, only to find it gone; was that some defensive measure, left behind by an Order member?

The leering chuckles that rose around them banished such notions, accompanied by a wave of ice down his spine. _Death Eaters_.

" _Colloportus!_ " a nasally voice incanted; their only exit sealed with a _squelch_ as Harry scrambled to his feet, a group of fifteen wizards suddenly surrounding them as they canceled their Disillusionment Charms, "Well, well, well! That little shit Malfoy may have been wrong about the library, but look what we've got here, boys! Potty and his _friends_ ," the sneering voice set his companions to laughing, as Harry felt his stomach curl into a rock.

A glance to his side, covered by looking to the five wizards on the stairs, Harry checked on his friends, who he had moved partially in front of; Ron's jaw was set, face stern with bravery, but pale with obvious fear. He could practically feel Hermione shaking behind him. _A trap. They were trapped_.

Movement brought his gaze around to the Death Eater that had spoken; the bastard was leering at them, wand-tip placed on top of his Dark Mark. Harry gulped, face setting into seriousness as a cold wave of fear filled him; they were calling Voldemort, he didn't have his wand, and they were trapped in a narrow corridor at the mercy of _fifteen_ Death Eaters. He furiously tried to think of a way out of this mess.

A beat of silence.

Another. Nothing was happening.

"Why ain'tit workin'?" one of the wizards on the stairs asked dumbly.

"Feh," nasally voice, probably the leader, said disgustedly, looking between his wand and the mark, "Dunno, probably the wards on this place," Harry tensed; if he could get close to this bastard, he might be able to wrest his wand. No sooner did the thought occur to him, he dismissed it; no way would he close the distance in time, not with all of the Death Eaters standing out of arm's reach, and not with another fourteen wands aimed in his general direction.

"So whadda we do," the same wizard on the stairs asked, "Take 'em outside n apparate?"

"What, so they can escape? Nah," the Death Eater in front of Harry sneered, leering at the Gryffindor trio, "besides…the Dark Lord only wants Potter. Didn't say what condition he wanted him in either, did 'ee?"

The Death Eater's laughter chilled Harry to his bones; he felt Ron growl next to him, Hermione's gasp making the hair on his neck stand up. They were going to torture them! He couldn't let that happen!

Without thinking, Harry hurled himself at the lead Death Eater, hoping his speed and quick reflexes would work in his favor and get him out of, easily, the worst situation he'd found himself in since the graveyard.

It was not to be.

" _Impedimentia!_ " came a shout from the side, the spell throwing Harry into the wall mid-leap; falling to the floor in a heap, he heard another _crack_ come from the doorway, accompanied by a pained yelp from Ron. Before he could get up, another spell slammed into his right knee, shattering the bones there and ripping a scream from his throat.

Hermione screeched as Harry saw several Death Eaters descend on her, laughing and jeering as they dragged her kicking and screeching over to the foot of the stairs as another one's fist rose and fell on Ron's face by the main door; despite the pain in his knee, Harry tried to get up and fight, using the wall as leverage.

A cane, probably from the troll's foot umbrella stand, smashed into his left eye, shattering the glass in his spectacles and driving it into the socket with white-hot pain.

He went back to the ground with another scream. A boot to his chest knocked the air from his lungs. The sound of tearing fabric came from the stairs, Hermione's screams rising in pitch.

Ron's roar of pure rage, throwing off one of his assaulter's with a hard punch, drew attention for all of a second before, " _Crucio!_ " the roar turned to agonized screams.

Harry lashed out with his right hand, trying to trip up one of his captors; the ankle he'd been reaching for moved out of range, another Bone-Shattering curse the only thing his hand caught.

" _No! NO!_ " he caught a glimpse of Hermione, forced onto all fours but still fighting off her would-be rapists, clothes in tatters, before he was gripped by the hair and dragged closer to her.

"Why don't you get a better view, Potter?" the lead Death Eater simpered at him, pulling Harry to his knees facing where Hermione was pinned, Ron thrashing and screaming further to his right.

" _FUCK YOU!"_ Harry roared, even as he was hit with a cutting curse across the chest, his left arm pulled behind his back.

"It won't be _me_ gettin' fucked, Potty," the bastard gripping his arm sneered in his ear; then, to his companions, "What's takin' so long?"

The one behind Hermione replied, dodging a kick, "Mudblood slut won't stop kickin'!" A stray kick slapped off his forearm, "Damn bitch!"

"Jus' break her legs, already," the Death Eater standing on Hermione's left hand sighed, loosing a Bone-Shattering curse at her thrashing legs for emphasis. Her screams of defiance turned to a piercing shriek of pain; Harry struggled furiously as he was forced to watch, as three more curses struck his best female friend's legs, twisting them unnaturally and drawing sobbing screams of pain from the young woman.

" _You fucking bastards!_ " cried Ron; they'd let up on him for a moment, and Harry saw him trying to claw his way to Hermione, even as the Death Eaters laughed and the first one lined himself up behind her, " _Get away fr-"_

" _Crucio!_ " Ron began convulsing again, a Bludgeoning hex hitting his thigh as the Death Eaters began using him as target practice.

Meanwhile, Harry was doing everything in his power to throw the monster holding him off, get his wand, _anything_ to stop this nightmare; after a brief struggle, the Death Eater took an ironclad grip on his left thumb. Another took hold of his right arm at bicep and forearm, before driving their knee into his elbow with a sickening _crack_.

Harry's screams began vying with Ron's for intensity.

" _Get off me! Get o-AAAHHHH!_ " the Death Eater behind his friend thrust into her brutally, drawing such a scream from her that Harry's blood felt like it had turned to fire, such was his rage.

Then the one holding him broke his thumb; he let out an agonized grunt, trying to fight through the pain, "This lil' piggy went to market."

Ron's screams died for a moment before picking back up, "Oi! I think she was a _virgin_!" Their jeering laughter rose, Hermione's horrified gasps of pain accompanied by the slap of flesh against flesh as her rapist built up a rhythm.

Harry's index finger broke, "This lil' piggy stayed home, _like you should have, Potter_."

Something inside him **snapped**.

A blast of raw magic threw the bastard off him. A stray arc, flying from his shattered right hand, struck Hermione's rapist in the side of the face; the man fell away from her screaming, clutching his burning face as Harry fell face-first to the ground, body wracked with pain.

He tried to drag himself to her, his one remaining eye fixed on her face, streamed with tears and spotted with forming bruises, her brown eyes locked with his. He _had_ to reach her, had to sa-

"LITTLE BRAT!" came the, now pained, hated nasally voice, " _CRUCIO!_ "

 **Pain.**

 **Pain-**

 **Pain…**

 **Pain~**

 **_Pain._**

 **Black-out…**

 **[1]**

 **He knew nothing but pain. Only a haze of pain. How long had it gone on? Days? Months? Years?**

" _Stop! Please! Stop it!_ "

Harry came back to reality lying on his back, as a fist collided with the right side of his jaw, rattling teeth and turning his head back in the direction of the stairs.

A Death Eater, the leader, his cloudy mind supplied, had Hermione's hair in his hands as she sobbed, forced to watch whatever they'd been doing to Harry while he'd been out of it, begging them to stop hurting him even as they continued to rape her; given that he could see the condition of his left hand, fingers twisted like pretzel knots, and he was having trouble breathing around broken ribs, Harry figured they hadn't listened to her pleas.

Ron's voice was a throaty hacking in the background as the leader spoke, "They look real pretty now, don't they, slut?" Hermione only sobbed pitifully in response, the rhythmic _slaps_ from behind her like nails on a chalkboard to Harry's ears, "Remember what you saw?" Using his grip on her hair, he made her nod, tear-stained face littered with bruises and deep cuts; detachedly, Harry noticed her hands were as mangled as his own, her right elbow purpling alarmingly. "Good."

The Death Eater raised his wand to her face. ' _No!_ ' Harry thought, terror flowing through his concussed mind like sludge, ' _Don't! Don't kill her!_ '

"Because it's the last thing you'll ever see. _Accio Eyeballs!_ "

 _'This can't be happening,_ ' Hermione's agonized scream ripped into him like a Cruciatus. The monster behind her shuddered, finishing inside his best friend before dropping her to the ground; before him, the nasally-voiced orchestrator of the trio's torment held Hermione's eyes up to Harry's view, giving him one last look at her chocolate-brown orbs before _crushing them with a squelch and a laugh_. ' _Why…No, fuck **that. I don't care about the why. I'M GOING TO KILL THEM ALL.**_ '

Hermione whimpered, drawing the Death Eater's laughter and Harry's attention: he could see cuts and bruises all over her body, her legs twisted awfully. A distracted, still innocent part of Harry was embarrassed at the sight of her bare breasts, but that thought was washed away in a red tide of **fury** at the sight of the words 'MUDBLOOD WHORE' carved into her collarbone.

" _Kill…you…_ " Harry's wheezing threat only drew guffaws and another kick to his shattered knee.

Ron let out a wet scream as a boot to the face ripped Harry's gaze over to his right, "Kill _us_ , Potty?" Harry's right hand looked like it had been put through a blender, only his thumb remaining attached by a strip of flesh, his elbow swollen hideously. "How are ya gonna do that without your wand," a wand appeared, pointing at the middle of his forearm, "Let alone yer _hand_. _Diffindo!_ "

 **Black-out…**

 **[1]**

 _He was being dragged up to his knees by his hair. He was so cold._

 _A hated voice, seeming to come from far away: "I'm about to teach you about **loss** , Potter."_

 _Vision graying, he saw two forms on the ground before him. Each beat of his heart forced barbed wire through his being, tearing at his senses._

 _Ron. He…remembered. That was his first friend. Eyes rolling, body twitching, each breath coming in rattling wet gasps._

 _Something deep inside Harry, something that he'd promised would never surface, uncoiled and spread, the cold fire left in its wake almost like a balm to his tortured soul, if he had not recognized what it was…Something **so much worse** than Voldemort._

 _'_ No! I…I don't want to…'

 **'YOU HAVE NO CHOICE, NOW. YOU _BURIED ME_ , YOUR ANGER AND RAGE, FOR ALL THESE YEARS…AND NOW…'**

 _Hermione…was that her? Yes, her hair gave it away. Oh…_

'OH GOD NOOO!'

 **'DO YOU SEE? _DO YOU SEE?!_ THIS IS _WAR!_ WAR HAS NO PLACE FOR _CHILDREN_. IT IS _MY_ DOMAIN. THE DOMAIN OF _RAGE._ '**

 _A piercing curse ripped through Ron's neck, making him convulse; wet, choking gurgles reached Harry's now ringing ears._

'NO. NO. NO. NO.'

 **'Tch. You will thank me later for this. Begone.'**

Ice flowed through Harry's mind. His scar's prickling vanished. The ringing in his ears stopped.

Clarity, as much as could be managed in his current state, fell over him. The glint of a knife, over Hermione's twitching form.

A savage grin split Harry Potter's broken lips as he croaked around battered lungs, **"Dobby."**

Pop!

A beat.

 **"All but one…** " Harry wheezed, crumpling forward amidst a chorus of bangs and screams.

As the dark rose up to meet him, he was vaguely aware of flinging his broken left arm in Hermione's direction; a last, maddened, vain attempt to save her.

 **[1]**

Bellatrix Lestrange hummed a jaunty tune as she strode through the white marble halls of Malfoy Manor, on her way to report the success of her mission to the Dark Lord.

It had been a glorious day: the fall of the Ministry, making it a puppet of her Master's will; the reckoning of the blood traitor families, in particular the final extinguishment of the Dagworth-Granger's line at Bellatrix's own wand (their screams would soothe her to sleep for many nights to come); and, of course, Rookwood's masterstroke in the Department of Mysteries, rooting out and executing any dissidents that would impede the Dark Lord's great work, all without having to break through their wards, seeing as Rookwood and his soldiers were _already inside_ , having infiltrated the Ministry months earlier. Ah, genius.

So, yes, Bellatrix was in a rare good mood, one which didn't ( _entirely_ ) have anything to do with death and mayhem.

Striding nobly in the Dark Witch's wake, at the proper distance of two strides behind and one to the right, Bellatrix's new apprentice had her own smile of vindication, along with hope; no doubt they would both be richly rewarded, Bella mused to herself, and if any of the Knights she'd brought with her deserved reward for defeating those blood traitor swine, Pansy Parkinson certainly deserved special recognition.

It wasn't every day, after all, that one gets to see a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl take on two adult men, rip one in half at the waist, then kill the other by shoving his brother's severed leg down his throat.

To be fair, the Dagworth-Granger's rebuff of the Parkinson Lord's marriage proposal a few years back _probably_ had something to do with it.

Nevertheless, "Well done today, Pansy," Bellatrix purred; they were almost at their destination, the double doors to their Lord's throne room at the end of this hallway, green light spilling through the crack beneath.

The girl bowed respectfully, "You've taught me well, Master Bellatrix."

"Well, obviously; or, not: after all," drawled Bellatrix at a suddenly apprehensive Pansy, "it's not like Algeron or his brother can attest to your skill," the Dark Witch concluded with a perverse giggle, making the young girl visibly relax with a cruel smile of her own, "No. I shall speak of your ability to the Dark Lord; remember, when you enter, eyes down. Three steps in-"

"Drop to one knee, but remain silent, as you'll be doing the talking, Master," Pansy recited easily, but with a _very_ slight exasperation that Bellatrix almost missed, "I _know_ , Master Bellatrix."

Bellatrix sniffed primly and ruthlessly crushed the urge to _Crucio_ the girl, "Yes, well, I'm am unused to actual _intelligence_ and _preparedness_ when it comes to your age group," the glower she then leveled at the young woman now walking alongside her down the hallway was almost wasted, seeing as Pansy had hung her head, "And for the love of Morgana, girl, _stop skulking_ ; I'm sure you'll have suitors aplenty after this meeting." That seemed to get her spirits up, if the proud tilt of the girl's chin and determined face were any indication.

The failure of the Malfoy brat had caused quite a few waves through the Dark Lord's organization, from the elevation of that _slippery bastard_ Severus Snape to her Lord's Inner Circle, to the reason for her apprentice's melancholy: the cancellation of her marriage contract to her _dear_ Draco by her lord and father. ' _No matter_ ,' Bella thought, as they arrived at the doors, ' _Now that she has proven herself worthy, she'll have_ her _pick of possible husbands from this group of heirs…_ ' Ah, but what's this? There were voices coming from her Lord's chambers.

"… _Lord, I should be able to breach the wards with but two ward-breakers_ ," That was ickle-Drakey-kins. What was his mission again, and why would he need ward-breakers for it? Bellatrix turned a questioning look at Pansy, who gave a confused shrug; but then the cold voice of her Lord cut through the door like a blade of ice.

" _You are a_ fool _, boy, if you think you can breach those wards so easily; no, we shall wait for dear Bellatrix…Who I believe is just about to report her success_." Of course. After taking a brief moment to make sure she and her apprentice were physically presentable (and raise her Occlumency shields), she strode through the door with her head bowed, taking five steps forward before dropping to one knee.

"My Lord. Rejoice, for the blood traitor family, the Dagworth-Grangers, have been utterly exterminated," Bellatrix purred in a low voice that belied her pleasure at working the Dark Lord's will.

It was well received, "Well done, Bella, my most faithful. Rise," she did so, raising her head only slightly, but her Lord wasn't finished, "And you as well, Miss Parkinson. I trust she performed well?" He directed the last at the Dark Witch herself, who smiled.

"Pansy here did admirably, actually," Bellatrix turned her head, under the guise of looking at her student with pride, and took in her Lord's audience: Draco Malfoy, her sister Narcissa, her dear comrade Antonin Dolohov, looking mildly frustrated about something, standing over by the wall with his own apprentice, Theo Nott, "She single-handedly dueled their heir and his brother, killing both without taking any injuries to her person." Though Pansy did not lift her eyes from their Lord's feet, Bellatrix could feel the pride wafting off the girl at the praise.

Turning her gaze back to her Lord, Bella brought all the relevant memories of her most recent battle to the fore of her mind before locking her gaze with the Dark Lord's. A sifting feeling, as though her mind were the banks of the river that was her Lord's power, followed. Nodding in satisfaction, the Dark Lord turned back to his throne of obsidian, stroking a long, bony finger over an armrest, apparently considering his next words. Bellatrix remained silent, using the brief silence to examine the rest of the room.

Ah, and there was Severus Snape, standing off in a far corner, no doubt ear-farming on these proceedings like the good little _spy_ he was; even after the Astronomy Tower, Bellatrix didn't trust him, not _one_ whit.

"Bella," her gaze snapped back to her Lord, who was looking at her with a curious expression, voice low, "If memory serves, you apprenticed, briefly, under Walburga Black, yes?"

Bellatrix suppressed a shudder of revulsion even as she nodded; as much as she enjoyed spreading fear and blood in her wake, just the _memory_ of what that madwoman did _in her own house_ made the horrors of Azkaban seem like two weeks at a private beach home in Barcelona. In the summer. With a couple strapping Spaniard gentlemen as company.

At Bellatrix's nod, Lord elucidated, "Draco, here, had a windfall of luck recently; one of the Knights assigned to him, an Alexander Donavan," a questioning glance to Draco had the spineless twit nodding quickly, "discovered one of the fool, Dumbledore's, little Order hideaways. As it turns out, the home once belonged to Orion's wife…"

Blinking, Bellatrix realized that she had _forgotten_ where the house had been, the one where she'd been introduced to the Dark Arts in her youth, until recently; " _Fidellus,_ " the Dark Witch hissed in realization, to which her Lord nodded before continuing.

"It seems the charm was tied to the old fool; and with it down, young Mr. Donovan and Draco here assembled a team of fourteen to…how did you put it, Mr. Malfoy? 'Raid the Black Library, so that the knowledge might be pooled amongst the Knights for the greater good.'" Her Lord was nodding, but Bellatrix barely noticed; she was _seething_ with _rage_. And not just because her _little shite_ of a nephew had thought to disperse Black family secrets to all and sundry!

" _Idiot **boy**_ ," Bellatrix growled at said little shite, who tried to hide behind his unimpressed mother, "Did you _really_ think you could just _waltz_ into _Walburga Black's house_ and abscond with her library?! Tch," she dismissed her nephew as the incompetent he was, turning back to the Dark Lord, who was grinning at the interplay, "I take it they failed miserably, my Lord?"

Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow, smile turning into a thoughtful frown, "Actually, they were able to gain admittance to the house; however, it would appear that the dear, departed Lady Black left defenses in place to dissuade looters. No injuries, but Draco returned to us to ask for ward-breakers once he realized he couldn't open any of the doors in the house, let alone access his goal."

"It was that _damn_ portrait!" blurted Draco in frustration; at Bellatrix's questioning gaze, he went on, "There was a portrait of some screaming woman on the stairs, called me a blood-traitor and a thief; when I destroyed it with a Blasting curse, there was this…shiver-"

" _Moron_ ," oh, Pansy didn't sound impressed at all, Bellatrix thought with glee, "Of _course_ destroying the portrait would set off latent defenses you wouldn't otherwise detect; that's, like, day _one_ curse-breaking: if you don't know what it's there for-"

"I didn't ask for _your-_ " whatever retort little Draco had for Pansy was obliterated by their Lord.

" _Enough_ ," perfect silence, then, "Bella, take your best curse-breakers and a select team of Knights to Grimmauld Place and _bring me that library_. Oh, and take Draco with you," Voldemort added as an afterthought, "Perhaps he'll find your professionalism… _educational_ ," her Lord ended in a sarcastic sneer.

Antonin spoke up then, "If you'll permit me, my Lord, I'd like to go as well; Theo could use the experience."

Lord Voldemort waved a hand dismissively, "Do as you will. Now, leave me."

Minutes later, in Bellatrix's quarters, said Dark Witch was changing out of her dueling robes into a set of dragon hide armor when her sister Narcissa appeared at the door.

"Sister," Bella greeted curtly, adjusting a boot buckle.

"Bella," a spike of shameful rage ran through Bellatrix at her sister's worried tone, "Please, we both know how insane Walburga was; so, please, keep my son-"

The Dark Witch growled, "Your _son_ , or _gobshite_ as Pansy prefers to call him these days, won't be in any danger, Cissy. I don't intend for him to do anything _important_ , as he's likely as not to muck something up and get us all killed; no," snapping the armor about her body and activating the enchantments, Bellatrix turned to her sister, who'd flinched at her cutting words, "His only purpose on this mission is to _observe_ , and so he shall," as she strode past Narcissa, she hissed disdainfully, "Be grateful this isn't a combat mission, _sister_. Were it so, I'd just as soon as use him as fodder; it seems that's all either of your men are useful for, nowadays."

With that, Bellatrix strode away, ignoring her sister's troubled self. _Honestly_ , if her sister were any more foolish Bella would have to start denying their relation in public! Damn that Lucius Malfoy for making her soft…

 **[1]**

Standing in the square outside the Black residence, surrounded by Muggle-repelling, Notice-Me-Not, Anti-Portkey and Apparation wards, Bellatrix came to a decision.

When they got back to Malfoy Manor, she was going to have a _long_ chat with Draco about standard operating procedure ( **skin the should-have-been-swallowed spineless mistake alive. _Slowly_** ).

"Err, boss?" One of her curse-breakers, a young Welsh wizard named Gawain, ventured from behind her, "Wards are up."

Bellatrix took a deep breath, closed her eyes, counted backwards from ten, and turned about to examine the team she'd brought to raid that _mad bitch_ Walburga's home.

Her budding apprentice, Pansy, a nervous scowl on her pretty face. Her four best curse-breakers: Gawain, Lester, Margaret and Olaf, a German wizard Greyback brought over from the Were's recruitment drive in Scandinavia. Antonin and Theo, both in their own dragon hide and looking at the house seriously, muttering to each other. A team of ten Knights of Walpurgis, unmasked, each handpicked by her for their skills in ward detection and nullification. Oh, and Draco, who was due a lecture with his mother present ( **she would make him beg for death in front of his loose whore of a mother** ) when they got home. Preferably over a glass of firewhiskey. Or a bottle. ' _Merlin-damned siege wards…_ '

"Draco~," she said with false sweetness, making the _stupid boy_ quake with fear, " _If_ , by some cruel act of god or devil, there _is_ a next time, do us all a favor… _AND REPORT TO YOUR SUPERIORS BEFORE ENTERING A **HEAVILY WARDED PROPERTY!**_ " Bellatrix ended in a frustrated scream, making her nephew jerk away from her as though burned, such was her vitriol.

They had tried Portkeying directly in front of the house, so they'd waste less time with what was, to _most_ of them, a mop-up assignment. Unfortunately, upon arrival it became apparent that not only did their Portkey deposit them well away from Grimmauld's front door, but a quick check by their curse-breakers revealed that the House Black warfare wards, which dated to the dark days of Grindelwald's war, and which Walburga Black had no doubt added to, had been raised.

Turning back to said house, Bellatrix glared at its outer walls, growling, "And I'd been having _such_ a good day…I was looking forward to a plate of cheese and crackers with a glass of port, preferably with a good book, lounging by the fire; mayhap a pleasant roll with my husband; simple things like, you know, enjoy the terrified screams of those blood-traitors from earlier as I slaughtered their children before turning on them in my pensieve before bed; but _nooo_ , instead I have to spend my night breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the entire _bloody country_!" She ended in a huff, wondering at how she had such _idiots_ as relatives.

Margaret began stretching, "So, boss, what's the plan?"

After a moment's consideration, the Dark Lord's right hand waved her wand at the soil beneath them, transfiguring the ground into a trapezoidal platform made from white marble, "Each of you, take a corner and begin carving the runes for the most powerful shields you know. As many layers as possible," kneeling in the center, Bellatrix finished, "I'll deal with the wards themselves; Walburga may have been brutally insane, but her knowledge of the Dark Arts was _nearly_ unsurpassed. Only the Dark Lord, myself and _Snape_ are more capable practitioners. Take no chances," her curse-breakers nodded warily before they began quickly carving runes into the marble.

Bellatrix herself only needed a moment to consider which spell, out of her vast repertoire, would be able to breach these wards and nullify them; granted, the Dark Witch mused as she drew out the runes for a Dark power-boosting ritual, she _did_ have the advantage of being taught by Walburga herself; all the same, this wouldn't be easy. No doubt the five of them would be winded, once the wards came down.

Finishing up, Bellatrix turned to Pansy, who'd been watching the rune-carving with rapt attention; good, the girl was smart. She'd go far, so long as someone didn't get her killed, "Pansy," the girl's eyes rose to meet a rare sight: Bellatrix Lestrange gazing at someone with a soft, caring look, "The only way these particular wards could have been raised is if there are no enemies within the house; 'enemies', in this case, is defined by the one who raises the wards. Therefore, we _may_ be walking into a battle. Once I bring them down, get to the door while we recover; do not tarry!" Bella snapped when her apprentice looked about to interrupt, "We will join you after catching our wind; once inside, Antonin, you take five Knights and search the upper three floors with your apprentice. _Draco_ , you are not to be further than five feet from Pansy, am I understood?" She said her nephew's name with as much venom as she could muster while gathering her magic. At the Junior Knight's ( **soon-to-be-dead** **little shit's** ) nod, Bellatrix gave Pansy her orders, "Pansy, take the remaining five Knights along with my sister's son and clear the downstairs rooms. Are we clear?"

Pansy nodded, adding zealously, "If there are enemies in there, master, they're as good as _dead_."

Shaking her head, Bellatrix corrected her, "Take prisoners for the Dark Lord, if possible; if not…oh well! Now," Lord Voldemort's right hand turned to face the Black townhouse, dark windows leering, gray stone shimmering with barely contained malice; a mad grin split the Dark Witch's face, "Hello… _Walburga_ ," her wand slashed across her palm.

Blood, pure red and infused with magic, fell upon her runes, turning them purple, infusing her with magic from the ley-lines running beneath London as she began her chant.

A tremor ran through the ground, shadows dancing across the target building's façade, a sickly aura of pure loathing and sadistic hate spilling out to raise bile in the throats of the Knights of Walpurgis.

Olaf gave a nervous chuckle, Lester commenting with a whistle, "Aye, boss, that there is one _mad bitch_."

"Shields up!" Margaret called; a heartbeat later, a shimmering red wall of magic rose, just as a bolt of pus-green magic slapped against it, making the older woman grunt with exertion.

"Bloody _hell!_ " swore Gawain as another blast of rot-tinged light shook the shields, "Likes her putrefying curses, eh lads?" He grunted as a bolt of black lightening cracked at them, pouring his magic into the runes to maintain his corner.

The runic shields flared in a putrid rainbow of light as Bellatrix chanted in the tongue of the Turkish Janissaries, the mages thereof who broke the ancient wards of Constantinople and toppled the Byzantine Empire once and for all. Her spell, once completed, would infuse the offensive spells being directed at them and turn their magic on the building's foundation ward stones, disintegrating them while leaving the house intact.

Five-and-a-half hundred years ago, it took one _thousand_ mages, with a mile-wide glyph-shield protecting them, two whole hours to bring down the Titan's Chains with this very spell: Zeus' Foil.

Only a bare hundred survived the act, the legendary millennia-old wards reaping their final, bloody toll as they fell.

As it was the third most powerful spell she knew, and _the_ most powerful ward-breaking spell in existence, a part of Bella told her this was probably overkill for so small and young a ward scheme.

Bellatrix, however, knew better; this was Walburga Black. Anything less than the very best would fail spectacularly.

Finishing the chant, the Dark Witch sent a silent prayer to Morgana for strength before raising her wand above her head; white lightning leapt from its tip, drawing the spells crashing against the runic shield to it like iron to the lodestone.

Upon touching the lightning, the putrid-colored spells took on its light. Thunder rumbled from nowhere as the spell commandeered the dark curses spilling desperately from the Black Townhouse.

Her magic shuddering with strain, Bellatrix swung her wand to point at Grimmauld Place with a pained cry.

The light crashed into the building's face. A shrill scream rang on the edge of the gathered Knights' hearing.

A loud _BOOM_ , seeming to echo from underground, followed.

The spells stopped. Ringing silence followed. The house still stood, unmarred by the magics used against it.

Bellatrix fell to her knees in exhaustion, gasping, "Go!"

Pansy rushed by, Draco right behind her, the rest of her Knights following their lead. Bellatrix used the reprieve to down a Pepper-Up; sitting cross-legged on the marble as steam escaped her ears, she watched as Antonin breached the door with practiced professionalism, Pansy covering him outstandingly. Bellatrix allowed herself a pleased smile and chuckle of pride over her apprentice.

Nearby, Gawain's hands were on his knees, staring in disbelief at the house as he caught his breath, "Bloody…buggering… _fuck_."

Down on one knee on the other side of the trapezoid, Lester chuckled as he lit a fag with his wand, "Too right, mate." Behind him, Olaf gave a grunt of assent, adding, " _Gott im Himmel_ , _was fur_ _ein_ _verdammte Shlampe."_ Lester laughed loudly at his partner's colorful impression of the late Black matriarch.

Bellatrix glanced at Margaret, who'd been in front of Gawain; the woman was still standing, if looking a bit pale to Bellatrix's eyes, looking in awe at the building whose wards the Dark Witch had just single-handedly felled.

Finally, the veteran curse-breaker spoke, "Credit where it's due, boss; when you want some wards down, _they go **down**_!" Her fellows joined Margaret in laughter, Bella joining them in relief a moment later.

 **[1]**

Five minutes later, Bellatrix stepped through the door of a house she hadn't visited since 1971.

Directing Margaret and Gawain upstairs, with Olaf and Lester to find Pansy, she took a moment to look around and take stock.

The hideous wallpaper was still in place, as was the threadbare hall carpet that ran from the door to the downstairs dining room, but something seemed…off.

Where was the troll leg? A memory, faded by time and Azkaban, came to her of Bellatrix's first visit with her sisters; the vision of prim and proper Narcissa tripping over the ugly umbrella stand with a squawk brought a smile to her face. Odd, though; she thought the thing immovable…

Sweeping her gaze about, Bellatrix noticed something else: dust. Or lack thereof.

" _Clear!_ " Came from the kitchen, followed by Pansy striding toward Bellatrix purposefully, little Draco still in tow; brow furrowed, Pansy gave her report as she came to stand before her master, "There's still the garden out back to check, but the rest of this floor is empty, Lady Bella."

"Empty?" Bellatrix repeated in a soft, dangerous tone, "What do you mean, _empty_?"

Gulping, Pansy went on, "Just that, my Lady; not only did we not find anyone, but there's nothing here; it's like no one ever lived here…"

Draco jumped in as his year-mate trailed off, "There was a landscape in a gaudy frame, just here," he indicated an empty patch of wall just across and beyond the stairs, next to a door to the downstairs lounge, "and a troll-leg umbrella stand just inside the door, when I was here earlier."

"Perhaps this _Donovan_ decided to cut his losses and make off with what he could?" Pansy waspishly insinuated.

"I doubt it," disagreed Draco with an exasperated sigh, "Alex is a marked Knight, and not one for whorehouses or drink, so I don't think he'd go hock some paintings and knick-knacks on a whim; cool, even-headed, I gave him orders to hold the front door until I returned. He had our soldiers Disillusion themselves and set up an ambush here," he explained to a now-interested Bellatrix and dubious Pansy, "Last thing he said was, 'No one'll get through that door unless they're you or a Knight', and I told him to take anyone who wasn't a Knight alive and hold them 'till we returned."

"Okay," sneered Pansy, "So he's not some yellow turncoat; that doesn't explain _where he is_!"

Bellatrix decided, reluctantly, to intervene before the two drew wands, " _Enough_. I'm sure Gawain will find some clue upstairs. Although, Draco, a question: how dusty was it, _exactly_ , when you got here?" The Dark Witch raised an eyebrow at the young wizard, tapping her wand against her cheekbone in thought.

The Malfoy Heir looked surprised at the question at first, before looking around, "Huh. Actually…it _was_ pretty dusty, Auntie…"

Pansy shook her head, in disgust or exasperation Bellatrix didn't much care, before addressing her master, " _Nothing_ was in any of the rooms we checked, unless you count this _hideous_ wallpaper as something of worth. If the Knights couldn't get past any doors before, then what happened?"

"Be silent," hissed Bellatrix; Pansy flinched, but obeyed as Bellatrix continued thoughtfully, "No dust…No furniture. Ambush at the front door, but they're gone now…Curious…" The Dark Witch began looking about the entry hall with a careful eye while her apprentice glared at her nephew, who sneered back silently; several minutes later, a ' _Clear!_ ' was shouted by Margaret from high up on the stairs. Seconds later, Gawain came down.

"Empty as Fudge's head, boss-lady," her third-best curse-breaker frowned, looking a bit disappointed, "Every door is open, including one that's got a big Black Family crest over the fireplace, but it looks like whatever wasn't a part of the house or carpeting was spirited away." Folding his arms, Gawain glanced at a corner where wall met ceiling, adding sarcastically, "It was nice of them to dust the place, though."

Bellatrix kept herself from _Crucio-_ ing everyone in the room by reminding herself that she had a job to do; through gritted teeth, she said, "The room with the crest would be the Lord's Study; with the main wards destroyed, I'm not surprised it's visible. What of the library?"

Gawain looked apprehensive, but replied in a calm voice, "Nothing. Even the bookshelves are gone." He then flinched as Bellatrix's gaze locked on him, though he needn't have worried; fury and confusion warred in the Dark Witch's mind, thoughts spinning through all she'd learned of magic as she wondered at how such a thing could be possible.

A moment later, as the rest of the Knights congregated on the stairs and the hallway near the dining room, awaiting further orders, the answer came to her; "House Elves," the Dark Witch snarled, before checking herself, "No…that still doesn't explain what happened to Draco's Knights; you said the ambush was _here_ , in this hallway?" she snapped at her nephew, who nodded quickly.

Antonin spoke up, addressing Bellatrix, "Maybe they were overpowered; that spawn of your sister's isn't half bad in a fight, and last I heard she's in the company of that rouge Were, Lupin," said Dark Witch nodded begrudgingly, still... ' _Something doesn't add up…_ '

"There'd be more spell damage about, iffn' that was the case, yeah?" Lester put in, Olaf grunting in agreement beside him.

"If there were House Elves," Theodore Nott supplied, "they could have erased any damage incurred by a fight before making off with everything."

Margaret shut that down from where she leaned against the stair railing, "Fifteen Knights against two, admittedly, highly-skilled opponents would've left heavy damage behind; a Were, this close to the full moon? We'd be seeing holes in the wall _at least_. Even an Elf would struggle to fix that before we got here," The other curse-breakers nodded, Bellatrix joining them with a slower nod, mind working overtime to find the answer to this puzzle.

She began thinking out loud, "Let alone that nothing could be taken from this house without the consent of a member of House Black, or one of its…servants," ' _Kreacher…but why?_ ' Bellatrix shrugged, trying to contain her anger, and asked Lester, "No sign of our Knights in the garden?"

At his negative response, Bella ran her free hand through her head, looking at the hall carpet to hide her face as she tried to decide on a fitting punishment for Draco, to address this latest _failure_ ; however, something caught her attention: there was a scrape in the rug, near Pansy's foot.

Bidding her apprentice move with a gesture, Bellatrix knelt to examine the scuff; it was vertical line, slight burning on the edges of the carpet fibers where it ran, so a spell…. "Cutting curse," she breathed into the silence; the tension in the room rose a notch as she rose, looking about for other evidence. Antonin, however, found it first.

"Got some shallow scratches in the wood, over here," he reported in a low voice, kneeling next to the stairs, closer to the door than Bellatrix was; after a moment he added, "I've seen scratches like this before, 'cept they're usually deeper, but with House Elves involved they probably _were_. Someone was placed under the Cruciatus, or something similar, I'd wager."

By now, all the Knights had moved off the carpet where Bellatrix and Antonin stood, looking between the stretch of carpet and the two veterans; the pair searched visually a moment more for more clues, coming up dry, before either spoke.

"Check for blood?" Bellatrix asked her old friend with all the casualness of asking for the time.

Antonin nodded, adding, "And other fluids, luv. I got a hunch," he threw in when she raised an eyebrow.

Shrugging dismissively, Bellatrix cast, " _Lumos violetta!_ " A pulse of blue-purple light left her wand and saturated the floor beneath her feet.

It turned white.

"Holy _shite!_ " Margaret swore from the stairs as Bellatrix gazed incredulously at the bluish-white splatters covering the carpet, "Did they slaughter a _pig_?" The other Knights began muttering worriedly amongst themselves.

"Anyone not a curse-breaker or one of these three," speaking sternly, Antonin gestured to the three apprentices looking at the floor in shock, "wait outside."

Moments of nervous shuffling later, only nine Knights of Walpurgis remained in the hallway turned crime scene; at least, that's what Bellatrix figured it would be called as she studied the gruesome stains. There were three (or maybe two?) distinct areas where the blood had been spread: one near Dolohov, where he'd found the scratches; another in front of Draco, who was now stood on the third step of the stairs, having retreated slightly in disgust; and a final, large blot, mixing slightly with the one in front of Draco, at Bellatrix's own feet where she stood next to an openly gaping Pansy.

Olaf broke the silence, addressing Draco directly in his heavy accent, "Eef it vas _ein_ piggy, dhen joor Knights vere _anivals_ , boy," the bearded Nord pointed at a discolored spot.

"Huh?" Lester squinted, before his lip curled in disgust, "Semen. Fuck, kid, what did you tell 'em to do with prisoners, eh?"

Draco drew himself up, no doubt to spout something _stupid_ , when Bellatrix interrupted with a furious snarl, her patience at **an end** , " _Three people came through that door, nephew;_ thr **ee,** " Her voice took on a harsh quality, like sandpaper sliding over glass, making all present cringe while Malfoy paled in fear, " **And not only did your Knights _not_ hold them prisoner, they decided to _take liberties with them_. Torture**," her movements stiff and mechanical, she pointed her wand at Antonin's feet, " ** _Rape_** _,_ " the splotch in front of her **moronic** nephew, " **And…** you know what?" Her voice suddenly calm and collected, she considered the splatter in front of her idly, allowing silence to reign.

After what seemed like an age, where the tension only rose to stifling levels, Draco swallowed, hesitating, before, "W-Wha-"

" _CRUCIO!_ "

Ten seconds of horrified screaming and thrashing later, Bellatrix lifted the curse and returned her attention to the violet-hued mess before her, remarking cheerfully to the now wary Knights and one sobbing nephew, "Well then! Let's see who the unfortunate souls were, shall we?"

"H-How will you do that, Lady Bellatrix?" Theo asked carefully, glancing with pity at the other side of the stairs, where Draco was still twitching even as he tried to rise. It was Dolohov who answered.

"There's a spell Aurors use to examine murder scenes," the enforcer explained as Bellatrix pranced over to stand beside him, "It shows the last five seconds of what the blood remembers while still in contact with the body; at least, while that body was alive," he ended with a chuckle and feral grin, making his apprentice gulp.

The Dark Witch added, pointing her wand at the floor and regarding the assembled Knights with a happy smile, "And given that the three of you are still children, I think we'll start with the torture victim and work our way up, hmm?" At the Junior Knight's and curse-breaker's hesitant nods, she let fly with a red spell at the floor.

A hissing sound heralded a red mist, which soon resolved into a human figure, one which was familiar to five of the gathered witches and wizards.

"Is…Theodore, is that _Weasley_?" Pansy asked, voice higher than usual; in the corner of Bella's eye, she saw a green-looking Theo nod. Not that she needed confirmation but…still.

The boy's form was sprawled painfully on the ground. Eyes rolled back, mouth partially covered in bloody froth and body twitching, Ron Weasley looked close to death: clothes ripped to shreds from cutting and flechette spells, to say nothing of his flesh, fingers and legs broken, a gouge across the bridge of his nose, and a hole right through the side of his neck, probably from a piercing curse. The way he was contorted and the continued twitching told Bella that he'd likely been subjected to multiple Cruciatus curses, perhaps an hour's worth going by her personal experience.

Bellatrix took all this in at a glance, noting the rise and fall of his chest and right arm twitching for the other side of the stairs; next to her, Antonin crouched to take a closer look at the boy's neck, "Well, Antonin? Did he live?"

"Probably," her friend grunted, "Looks like a piercing curse, but a shite job of it; they missed his major blood vessels, ripped up his esophagus and took a nice chunk out of his trachea, but…" Antonin stood, concluding, "If he was taken directly to an experienced healer, he'll live." The two veterans regarded each other severely, before Bellatrix turned to order her apprentice to leave as they examined the rape victim.

Draco, however, arrested her attention; he was pale as a sheet, mouthing 'oh fuck' over and over. He wasn't looking at Weasley's form, however; he was looking at the other two splotches on the ground. Pansy, noticing, asked gently, "Draco? What is it?"

The Malfoy Heir shivered before replying in a terrified tone, "Weasley never goes anywhere without Potter and the Mudblood," he gestured at the remaining blood-splatter, "That's probably them."

Ringing silence fell for a moment, broken by Lester's whispered, "Fuck," as he fished out a cigarette.

Throwing all caution to the wind, in desperation to verify Draco's theory, Bellatrix hastily threw another red spell at the white spots in front of Malfoy.

Once it formed, Olaf immediately swore, " _Scheisse!_ " Pansy's hands flew to her mouth, forcing her dinner back down. Draco simply looked up at the ceiling, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

After looking at the mutilated form for a moment, Bellatrix warily asked the Knights, "Who…Who _is_ that?"

Empty eye sockets, lids closed and sunken, framed by matted, curly hair cried tears of blood over a crushed nose, set into a puffy face covered in cuts, lips cloven on the left side, mouth slightly open as she painfully gasped for breath; bare, twisted arms ending in broken fingers slumped over the nude form of a young woman lying on her side, body slightly curled as though they'd tried to curl into a ball despite obviously broken ribs and weeping slashes covering their torso, front and back; somehow, her breasts had little damage, save the words 'MUDBLOOD WHORE' carved in the space between them and her collarbone; her hip had an alarming dent in it, like someone had stomped on it. Bellatrix avoided looking at her groin too closely, only noting it was in bloody ruins; the _legs_ , though…they were twisted horribly, bones obviously shattered before being kicked around liberally. Were it not for the steady, shuddering rise and fall of those breasts, Bella would have written the poor soul off as dead.

Theo visibly gagged, swallowing before answering Bellatrix, "T-that's Granger. I don't k-know anyone else with hair like that…May I, ah, be excused?" The last was directed at a frowning Dolohov, who nodded absently; the Nott Heir was out the door faster than an Apparate.

Swallowing in disgust at the barbaric scene herself, Bellatrix marshalled her Occlumency before, "Antonin, dear? Is this survivable?" Privately, the Black daughter wondered if death would be so bad after such an experience.

Shaking his head, her partner answered slowly, pacing about the astral from on the ground, "Unlikely; I don't see any _fatal_ wounds, but given the state of her torso and legs, there's a good chance of internal bleeding _somewhere_ , if not a collapsed lung," crouching in front of the figure, he went on in the clinical tone of someone who'd seen dozens of scenes like this, "Given her overall state, I'd say she put up a fight and they…forcibly subdued her, repeatedly ravaging before physically mutilating her for not accepting their advances; dunno why they gouged out her eyes, though, and breaking her pelvis seems a tad… _extreme_ , given the situation. I doubt it was intentional when they did it, and she's not here for me to run a diagnostic, but going by the angle of that break, a bone shard might have pierced her uterus if not destroyed one of her ovaries or punctured her bladder," rising, he looked to Bellatrix and concluded his examination, "Unless she _immediately_ sees a _damn good_ Healer, I'd give her an hour, _if that_ , before she bleeds out; even then, not only is she permanently blind, she'll likely never walk again."

"Hmph," Bellatrix looked down at the broken girl's form, addressing it casually, "At least you now know your place, Mudblood. Fitting that it was in such an _uncivilized_ way…" She glanced at Draco, who was still staring at the ceiling with a despairing expression on his face; feeling disgusted at her nephew's cowardice, she cast the spell one last time at the final blot of blood.

Her mind shuddered to a halt at what it revealed. The gathered Knights had differing reactions.

Pansy fled to the sitting room where she could vomit in privacy; Lester's cigarette fell from his lips as he gaped, Olaf groaning in disbelief next to him; Gawain mumbled a long stream of curses under his breath, sitting on the stairs and putting his head on his knees; Margaret paled, drawing a black clove and lighting it with her wand; Malfoy's gaze never left the ceiling, though he did close his eyes briefly; Antonin slowly walked around Bellatrix, who stood frozen over the raven-haired form on the floor, and said harshly, "Draco…Never mind Bella here, the _Dark Lord_ is going to _kill you_."

" _Us_ , Dolohov," groaned Gawain, drawing the attention of everyone except Bellatrix, whose stony gaze was fixed on the newest form, and Pansy, who was still retching in the other room; not lifting his head, he explained his reasoning in a dead tone, "If we'd been an hour and a half or so earlier, we _might_ have been able to stop this from happening…He'll kill us for not being faster with the wards, taking an hour getting kitted for the job; _you_ , Draco, he'll do something special with, boss-lady and Dolohov will get off with a Cruciatus, same as their apprentices, and the rest of us'll get fed to Malfoy's abraxans."

"What the fuck was Donovan _thinking?!_ " Lester all but shouted, not taking his eyes off Harry Potter's ruined form.

Bellatrix examined this form with a little more detail than the other two, as her Lord would want a detailed report of Potter's injuries: right leg twisted below the knee, foot _almost_ facing the complete wrong way and bent in half, knee obviously shattered before his lower leg was rotated; weeping slashes poked through his torn shirt, product of cutters and Flailing curses, no doubt; the flesh on the right side of Potter's body, below his armpit, was torn open where his tormenters had removed half a broken rib, bloody and bruised lung still visible as it weakly moved; ' _He was alive, then; the Dark Lord was correct, Potter is rather persistent,_ ' Bella thought, moving on to his arms; the left was broken at the elbow, but apparently had been flung out when Potter had fallen face down, twisted up fingers reaching impotently for the Mudblood's twitching form; the right arm…his hand was gone, as was everything halfway down his forearm, elbow also broken; she couldn't see his front, but, crouching by his head, she could see enough of his face to know that someone had used a Flaying curse on his left cheek and temple, the muscles and bones of his face visible through tattered skin and flesh, that his eye had been crushed by the lens of his glasses being broken and driven into the socket, and that his nose had been broken; everything else was obscured by carpet, blood, and Potter's neck-length hair.

Taken together, both young men were somewhat reaching for the mutilated girl, despite their own injuries. Potter was closer to Granger, and, given what Bellatrix could see, was probably made to watch as she was violated repeatedly, while Granger may have been forced to watch as they butchered Potter; Weasley was likely subjected to the same treatment between Crucios.

Bella didn't bother asking Antonin his opinion on Potter's chances of survival; if the brat was still able to breathe after all _this_ , combined with her own experiences involving Potter's escapades, it was unlikely he was dead.

Rising, Bellatrix forced down her rage (Draco), disgust (where did she start?), and her fear of bringing this information to the Dark Lord; calming her mind into a placid lake, she pieced together the scene before her, basing her conclusion on what she'd learned so far.

"They didn't expect anyone to be here," the Dark Witch said softly, drawing all attention, save Draco, who was _still_ staring despondently at the ceiling, "So they already knew about the house, either from Dumbledore or dear cousin Sirius before I killed him; they walked into the trap…got disarmed," she paused, considering a moment before asking Margaret, "We are _all_ under orders to summon the Dark Lord, should we find Potter; is there any magic that could interfere with the Dark Mark?"

The aged curse-breaker thought a moment before replying shakily around her clove, "Only two things I can think of, boss: a magic-dampening ward, like what Unspeakables use in research, or a House-Elf."

Bellatrix nodded, banishing the conjured forms of the three torture victims; she'd come to the latter conclusion, herself. She went on, "A House-Elf, probably Kreacher, Walburga's elf, prevents Donovan from summoning the Dark Lord…who then proceeds to brutalize three teenagers, one of which we've been ordered to retrieve _unspoiled_. Given the state they're in, none of these three could have escaped under their own power…And Kreacher would be too weak, once he raised the siege wards…" Now she was stumped; how did they get away?

"There was another house elf," Draco murmured; Bellatrix swung her gaze to him. He was still looking at the ceiling, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"How do you know?" Antonin asked suspiciously.

"Unless you know of a wizard who can do _that_ ," Draco pointed at the ceiling.

Looking up, Bellatrix found out what had happened to the Knights stationed here; their pained and shocked faces protruded from the ceiling like some morbid bas relief. Blinking away her shock, she performed a head count. Lester beat her to it, "Fourteen…You said there were fifteen, boy," he added to Draco, who nodded, eyes blank with shock.

"Donovan's not there."

" _So_ ," hissed Bellatrix, making everyone save a returning, green-faced Pansy flinch, "To sum this _cluster-fuck_ up, you left them here to set up an ambush, _without orders_ , while a House-Elf interferes with your operations; Potter, Weasley and the Mudblood arrive, Donovan springs the ambush, then, _for some inexplicable reason_ , tortures Potter and Weasley to within an inch of their lives while his men all but tear the girl apart… _Then_ , seeing as Weasley is in no shape to do much of anything, and the Mudblood is on the brink of death, Potter calls an unaffiliated House-Elf to the scene; all your Knights, save Donovan, presumably, are slain; this other House-Elf spirits these three as well as Kreacher and Donovan away, likely to a trusted Healer… _AND THEN_ ," her tone was steel unsheathed as she finished, "This _other House-Elf_ returns, with help most likely, and _takes everything that hasn't been nailed down while you bitch and moan impotently at the Dark Lord!_ "

No one spoke. Silence reigned in the hall, barring Bellatrix Lestrange's furious breathing.

Finally, after thinking up and discarding several ways to handle this… _colossal_ _fuck-up_ …she reached a decision; speaking in clipped tones, she gave the Knights their orders, " **Find them**. Antonin. Take Draco here to St. Mungo's with five of the Knights waiting outside, and turn the place inside out. If they're not there, get your arse to Hogwarts. I'll be waiting there. Pansy!" Her apprentice jumped in surprise but quickly gathered herself, "Grab Nott, go to the Ministry and have Rookwood pull the records on every registered Healer in Magical Britain; even if they go to ground, _someone_ had to heal these wounds, and must be providing continuing care. Find out who." Pansy nodded and all but ran out the door to do her mentor's bidding.

Sighing, Bellatrix concluded, "I will bring this news to the Dark Lord myself before bringing more troops to search Hogwarts, as it is just as likely a redoubt for Potter as St. Mungo's. In the meantime, Margaret, take charge of our remaining Knights, go to Hogsmede, take half the garrison there and begin searching Hogwarts itself; use whatever means necessary. I don't care if you have to _torture_ it out of McGonagall, or even dose Pomphrey with Veritaserum! I don't care if you have Olaf beat Filch to a bloody pulp! _Whatever it takes!_ _FIND THEM!_ "

 **[1]**

 **A/N:**

 **Stories abound where something tragic happens to Potter and/or his friends, then Harry (or one of his friends) goes all 'Dark', and proceeds to take the fight to Tom, fighting fire with fire; in a lot of those stories, Harry comes off as (a/an/either/or/all of the above) emo, Goth, be-all, end-all, BAMF, ladies-man (we call these Gary Stu's) and the story usually ends happily. _Somehow._**

 **This is NOT one of those stories.**

 **Keep in mind that Bellatrix is not only homicidally psychotic, nor just a sadistic bitch, but also sports an intelligence that rivals, if not exceeds, Hermione's. You don't become Riddle's right hand with _just_ insatiable bloodlust.**

 **Personally, I feel Rowling could have done so much more with her character, but I feel that way about a lot of characters in every one of the books, particularly 5-7, whose plots I swear feel like they're held together by duct-tape and contrived plot devices. Thank god for (good) Fanfiction, eh?**

 **When I write, I imagine how the scene would look from the character's perspective; this can be a problem, as while I can visually picture how something goes with great clarity, translating that to written word can be very hard, especially when you're trying _not_ to go into great detail about every minute thing, like what color every little thing is. I'll leave that up to each reader's interpretation. For example, just google image search 'hideous wallpaper', pick the darkest shade, and you have the wallpaper at Number 12. Ghastly.**

 **Questions? Comments? Reviews can be both!**

 **~Baked**


	3. 2

**Fair warning, please read:  
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS:  
MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE AND RAPE,  
TORTURE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, AND DETAILED DEPICTIONS OF  
PSYCHOSIS.  
** ** _READER DISCRECTION IS ADIVSED!_**

 **Having said that, this chapter is actually quite tame compared to the last chapter. Still, brace yourselves.**

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 ** _Previously in Unforgivable…_**

 ** _"All but one…_** _" Harry wheezed, crumpling forward amidst a chorus of bangs and screams._

 _As the dark rose up to meet him, he was vaguely aware of flinging his broken left arm in Hermione's direction; a last, maddened, vain attempt to save her._

Kreacher growled in effort as Kreacher raised the houses siege wards, having been forced to wait until the trespassers were dead or unconscious to do so. Too old. Kreacher was too old, had gone too long without a proper Master to perform all his tasks with ease; Kreacher was _weak_. Stopping them from summoning the Dark Lord…not that Kreacher had _wanted_ to stop them, but Bad Master had made Boy-Who-Lived the Heir, and with Mistress gone…It had taken much from Kreacher, but the House was safe, and, Kreacher thought with a relieved, wheezing sigh, the Heir would live now that help had arrived.

Let it never be said that Kreacher was anything but loyal to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

No matter. Kreacher had a job to do; the Dobby was here, at the Heir's call. Kreacher needed to give the Dobby orders, if the Heir was to live and House Black's property to escape pillage.

He gathered his fading magic and popped to the bloody hallway. The trespassers were strewn about the ground. Only one was alive, his ears bleeding slightly from having his head slammed against the wall. The Dobby had wrapped his magic about the Weasley's neck to stop the bleeding and was putting the Mudblood into a stasis field as he arrived.

"Free Elf," croaked Kreacher, kneeling at the Heir's side, "You…You must gets the Heir to safety."

"Dobby knows! But…where?" Kreacher looked at the Dobby, whose eyes were fearful, "Hoggywarts won't be safes with Death Eats theres, and theys would surely check the wizard's hospital!"

Kreacher gnashed his teeth, wracking his weary mind for some solution, because the damn Free Elf was _right_ ; meanwhile, the Dobby called out into the Popping Place, ' _WINKY!_ '

Kreacher felt the Dobby's being reach through the Tapestry to another of the Brood, lacing their call with Purity and Purpose. Impressive, for an Unbound. Seconds later, a gaunt female Elf popped into the hallway, rubbing her eyes to remove sleep before she _'eep!_ 'ed in horror at seeing the tableau before her, " _DOBBY!_ What has yous-?"

"No time, Winky!" the Dobby hissed urgently, "See to Harry Potter Sir!"

Kreacher glared at this…Winky, who flinched at his gaze before doing as she was told, placing the Heir into another stasis field, "W-Where can we takes them, Dobby?" The Free Elf looked about to despair, while Kreacher became thoughtful.

Hearing her voice jarred something in the ancient Elf's memory. It sickened Kreacher to even _think_ of asking for one of the Disowned for assistance; however, Kreacher was out of options. The Dark Lord's servants would be back, soon, and they would no doubt finish the Heir if they found him; they had to move quickly.

" _Andromeda_ ," Kreacher growled, remembering the middle Black sister's Healer training. Well, more like rasped the name; Kreacher was so _tired_ , and there was so much still to do, "You, One who is being called Winky. Take Kreacher's hand. Hurry!"

Winky did so tentatively, after glancing at the Dobby for confirmation; once she did, Kreacher keyed her to the foundation stones of the House, rasping urgently as the world began turning grey at the edges, "There. Now yous can removes…House Black's belongings…" Kreacher looked to the Dobby. Now for the hard part, "Free Elf, brings the Heir and the others to Andromeda Tonks…She will heals them…Leave nothings for the _thieves_ , yesses?" The young elves before Kreacher nodded. Kreacher returned the nod…

Right as Kreacher's exhaustion overtook him, falling into the Winky's arms.

Two minutes later, there was no obvious sign anything had occurred in the hallway.

Ten minutes later, the house was empty.

Fifteen minutes after Kreacher passed out, the wards fell to Bellatrix Lestrange.

One hour later, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, having been stabilized through the efforts of Andromeda Tonks, were out of the country, Andromeda fleeing from her safe-house to her summer villa in the Chajoux Valley, in the French province of Lorraine, after her husband brought her news of Bellatrix's search.

While Andromeda knew the Elves brought the contents of Grimmauld Place with them, as she'd also been caring for Kreacher, neither she nor her husband realized their bringing a Death Eater prisoner with them.

As far as Dobby, Winky and Kreacher were concerned, that information was for Harry Potter alone.

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 **.  
Unforgivable  
By BOFS  
[2]**

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 **[2]**

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 **[2]**

Seated on his throne in Malfoy Manor, Lord Voldemort was feeling troubled.

To himself, this was very odd; just this past day, he'd taken over Magical Britain's government, consolidated his follower's power bloc, and Rookwood was all set to deliver a packet on the Department of Mysteries in the morn. Nothing should be troubling him…Well, Voldemort mused as he stroked his chin with a bony finger, there _was_ that issue with the Malfoy Heir, but dear Bella was all over it like a niffler in a Gringotts vault.

So, yes, nothing was wrong. Then why? Why did something feel… _off_?

Ensuring he was alone, the Dark Lord covertly whiffed his shoulders; no, that wasn't it. He'd had a shower just this morning. "Hmm…" Voldemort looked about; no, Nagini was house trained and knew to tell him in case she needed walkies.

Standing, Voldemort began pacing, snarling to himself, "Everything is going according to planned, so why do I feel like something's wrong?!" Checking the time, he found it was just past midnight; Bellatrix had been gone for several hours, now. Surely she didn't run afoul-

The Dark Lord stopped his pacing as he felt the wards shiver, registering someone arriving. A cursory check out the window showed it was Bella, striding purposefully for the Manor's entrance, alone; the slightest feeling of relief touched what was left of his Dark soul with the knowledge that his Right Hand was safe and apparently unharmed…but the niggling feeling of _wrongness_ didn't leave.

' _What have I overlooked…_ _ **Potter**_ ,' with all that was going on, it was little wonder Voldemort had forgotten the sniveling _boy_. Should he risk it; ever since the failed Ministry operation last year, he'd been…hesitant…to use his Legilimency bridge to the boy. The feeling of _empathy_ , of acceptance of _Death, of all things!_

 **Revolting** , in Voldemort's opinion anyway. No, he'd leave the bridge alone…for now.

Still, the boy hadn't been found by the forces he'd sent out to deal with the boy's allies in the Wizarding World; additionally, most of those allies had gone to ground before they ever arrived. Perhaps Voldemort should try taking a look? Perhaps, if he was asleep…

No. Not yet. Bella was almost upon him-Why were some of his forces _leaving_? He could feel them, leaving in threes and fours. Why had Bella given orders, without receiving them first? Had she discovered something concerning Potter? Was there already a revolt? A riot perhaps?

Was she **betraying him**? No, that was ridiculous.

If Bellatrix betrayed him, it wouldn't be _obvious_ until she slid the knife through his ribs.

A flick of his wand opened the door before his Right Hand could knock, his voice smooth ice, "Bellatrix, why have you ordered my forces away?"

Then he saw her state.

She was undamaged, but she looked like…well, like she had after her first raid: haunted, gaunt, disturbed. Her eyes flicked about the room, ensuring they were alone, before entering and sealing the room against eavesdroppers. She didn't bow, but she didn't meet his eyes either. ' _Curious…_ '

"My Lord, I've just come from Walburga's house," was Bella's breathless opening, "All the Knights that Draco brought with him are dead or missing," she took another breath as Voldemort's eyes narrowed, wondering if this was the source of his feeling off, "Everything in the house that wasn't nailed to the floor is _gone_ , my Lord."

A spike of **rage** shot through him at the report of such a failure, but Voldemort suppressed it as he sensed Bella wasn't finished, "And do you have an idea as to the thief's, or thieves' _, identitiesss_?" he hissed, anger marring his voice.

"Besides the fact that they used House Elves, no, my Lord," her head raised, looking at him through her curly bangs, eyes flashing with… _something_. Was it disgust? Horror? He'd rarely felt such emotions in his second before…Nothing, however, could have prepared him for Bellatrix's next words, spoken with fear, quietly, "Potter was there. Knight Alex Donovan tortured him and his two friends nearly to death."

" ** _LEGILIMENS!_** " Lord Voldemort felt Bella's Occlumency shields drop on instinct at his roared attack, sparing her an aneurysm or worse; the relevant memory took him less than an eye-blink to locate, as she shunted it to the fore of her mind.

Lord Voldemort, formally Tom Riddle, _almost_ regretted it. _Almost_.

As it was, he withdrew before hissing, " _Crucio,_ " a few seconds of hearing her scream later, Voldemort returned to his pacing.

' _Crippled. Potter is_ **crippled** _. What…the great_ _ **buggering**_ _ **FUCK**_ _ **…was Donovan thinking?!**_ ' " _Where. Is. Donovan_?" Voldemort hissed at his gasping second-in-command, barely able to keep his voice level through his rage.

"I…We couldn't…He wasn't amongst the dead, my Lord," Bellatrix finally replied, her being burning with the after-effects of her Lord's Cruciatus, "We…Are looking for them. I've deployed half our rem-m-maining Knights to Hogwarts; P-Potter knows the school well, and most of the st-staff are sympathetic to him."

"And if you are _wrong_ , Bella?"

The Dark Witch gulped, trying to steady herself through the lingering pain, "Pansy is…pulling the records of every Healer, public or…private, in the British Isles; we _will_ find them, or know where they have gone, my Lord."

Voldemort was still seething, but he could see the sense in his Right Hand's actions. Hopefully, they would bear fruit, "Of greater concern, in my eyes, Bella, is that one of my Knights ordered and participated in the _rape and torture of three teenagers_. While I occasionally allow such… _frivolities_ …amongst our lesser, unmarked, forces, and Greyback's pack may do as they will with their prisoners, such _despicable conduct_ amongst our officers **will. Not. Be. Tolerated**." He glared down at the prostrating Dark Witch, "Have I made myself clear, dear Bella?"

Nodding, Bellatrix said, "I will make your or-orders heard throughout our forces, my Lord."

"See that you do," Voldemort paused, weighing how this turn of events would affect his vision for a perfect world; surely, something positive could come of this? Ah, yes that _just might work_ … "Before you leave for Hogwarts, wake Lucius and send him to me. We need to discuss Ministry Policy, and how _you_ will fit into the world I will shape."

Her eyes rose to meet his, tinted with mild fear, "My Lord?"

"Go." Watching her hurriedly leave, Voldemort realized…if what had happened in that hallway _ever_ reached the light of day…

If the _Press_ found out…

Voldemort was no fool; he knew that, even with recruitment on the rise, even with the Giants and Weres on his side…

Even though he was the most powerful wizard in Europe…

If the world was informed not only of his return (he'd managed to keep that quiet so far, and tomorrow's _Prophet_ would help reverse the damage Fudge and Scrimgeour had done), but that his Knights had tortured Harry Potter while forcing him to watch as they gang-raped a seventeen-year-old girl, then the ICW would launch an inquiry and declare Magical Britain a rebel state.

That inquiry would result in…he suppressed a shudder, remembering a jungle in Southeast Asia. _Peacekeeping indeed_.

Fortunately, he had plans for just such scandal occurring. But first, he'd need insurance, just in case Potter sought revenge for the barbarism he'd been subjected to…

Voldemort smiled. He just needed a member of one of Potter's little Defense club to put the plan into motion. And he had just the member in mind.

Ginevra Weasley.

 **[2]**

 _It was a long way to swim._

 _But the light was there, coming…closer._

There.

 _She hurt._

 _But she was used to hurting._

 _She was alive._

 _She…supposed…that was good._

 _Arms hurt, but moved when she told them._

 _That was good._

 _Her legs couldn't move._

 _Her legs wouldn't listen…_

 _She couldn't feel them._

 _That made her sad._

 _But her eyes could open._

 _That was funny._

 _She remembered losing them._

Squish, gone.

 _But it was good to see._

 _The ceiling was blue._

 _Painted like the sky._

 _Like the Great Hall?_

 _Little clouds were drifting across it._

 _A bird even zipped by with a twitter, as she watched._

 _It was pretty._

 _She was lying in a bed._

 _She could hear quiet wheezing._

 _So she wasn't alone._

 _The sheets felt silky, warm._

 _That was okay._

 _She still hurt, which wasn't okay, but she could deal with it._

 _A quiet pop, on her bed, making her twitch._

 _An Elf, with long ears like ponytails, squeaking at her._

 _Winky._

 _She looks better._

 _That was good._

 _A click._

 _A door?_

 _Winky pops away._

 _A woman was looking down at her._

 _A woman who looked like a_ _ **demon, speaking softly to her.**_

 ** _Laying_** **a hand on her shoulder.**

 **Don'ttouchmedon'ttouchmedon'ttouchme.**

 **She lets go.**

 ** _Good._**

 ** _She's still talking, though._**

 ** _Will kill her given the chance, no doubt._**

 ** _No. Kill her. Killed Sirius-_**

 ** _O_** _h, she's saying her name is Andromeda._

 _Andromeda Tonks._

 _She's Nymphadora's mom._

 _She doesn't matter, then._

 _Regrew her eyes?_

 _Potions and spells and reversing her hurts._

 _Well, that makes sense, and explains why she can see now._

 _That was nice of her._

 _What was her name again?_

 _Harriet?_

 _No, Hermione._

 _Her name was Hermione Granger._

 _Potions and tasteless things are poured into her mouth, making it hurt less, but making her head cloudy._

 _More words fell out of the woman's mouth._

 _An avalanche of nothing._

 _Hermione still couldn't feel her legs._

 _She uses her bandaged hands to tell the Woman._

 _The Woman told her things._

 _Bad damage._

 _Nerve damage._

 _Might not walk again._

 _That wasn't good._

 _Not good at all…_

 _She'd have to fix that herself, later._

 _Maybe some tea, first…_

 _Ron might help her…_

 _Ron?_

 _Ron!_

 _How did she ask about Ron?_

 _Ron was safe!_

 _Ron was security!_

Hermione's eyes looked into Andromeda's worried face, her mouth forming a word, Ron?

Andromeda's face fell, looking to the girl's right, where Ron Weasley laid, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling in catatonia. Though she'd been able to heal his wounds, he'd have a scar across his nose for the rest of his life, and part of his bangs had turned white from over-exposure to the Cruciatus.

It made Andromeda sick, knowing what these three children had gone through.

" _Aah! Rhaa!"_ Andromeda looked back at the young woman in the bed, her bandaged and splinted right hand reaching out to Mr. Weasley, eyes wide and desperate, voice wispy and dry, even after water and potions.

"Miss Granger?"

" _Rhaa! Rhaa!_ "

Andromeda sighed, "Hermione!" Those brown eyes, framed in black rings, flew back to her, teeth gritting in her heavily bandaged face; the poor girl looked like a furious mummy, "I'm sorry, Hermione. He…he was under the Cruciatus too long," Andromeda's voice broke. She wasn't even sure the girl could understand her.

 _But Hermione understood._

 _No._

 _No!_

 _Nononononononon_ _ **onononoNONONONONOTLIKENEVILLE'SPARENTS!**_

 ** _NOOOO!_**

 ** _NOT MY RON!_**

 ** _THEY'LL…_**

 ** _THEY'LL PAY FOR THIS!_**

 ** _I'LL-_**

 ** _…_**

 _Huh._

 _…_

 _Had she ever been this angry?_

 _…_

 _…_

 _No._

 _No she hadn't._

 _Was it wrong…that she_ _ **liked it**_ _?_

 _…_

 _Still no._

 _Could she do something with it? The anger?_

 _The_ _ **fury**_ _?_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…Yes…?_

 ** _Yes_** _._

 ** _YESSS_** _…_

 _Hehe…hehehehehe…HAHAHAHAHA!_

 _Hehehe…She was going to_ KILL _them, oh yes she was!_

 _ **Bleed**_ _and_ _ **break**_ _and_ _ **cry**_ _and_ _ **scream**_ _and_ _ **beg**_ _and_ _ **plead**_ _and_ DIE **DIE** DIE _!_

 _ **Just like they made her do.**_

Andromeda felt her heart break as the girl's face went blank, just staring at the ceiling with nothing in her eyes, "I'm sorry. I did all I could," she sniffed, wishing she could give the girl some hope, something to bring her back from the edge.

" _Hair._ "

 _Oh, wait!_

 _Harry was there too!_

 _Yes!_

 _Harry is survival!_

 _Harry fought a dragon and lived!_

 _He got bit by a basilisk and lived!_

 _He faced_ _ **Voldemort**_ _and lived!_

 _Twice!_

 _Or was it more than twice?_

 _Oh well, doesn't matter!_

 _He can survive anything!_

 _Yes!_

 _I'm not alone!_

 _Where oh where can my Harry be?~_

 _When I got attacked by a troll, he came along and saved me!~_

Andromeda looked questioningly at Hermione, whose eyes had taken on a pleading look, "I'm sorry, dear?"

" ** _Hair_**. _Whurr?_ " Her voice, while still gritty and slurred, had a desperate undertone. ' _Oh, she was asking after Harry_ ,' Andromeda realized as stepped out of the way, looking over at the sleeping young man.

In the four days she'd spent healing the three teens, Harry's condition was the only one that hadn't changed for better or worse; his right hand had been replaced with a metallic prosthetic Dobby had found amongst the artifacts brought from Grimmauld Place, and, unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about his missing eye; in Hermione's case, the orbital muscles and nerve stems were still in place and mostly undamaged, so she was able to regrow them quite easily. Not so with Harry. Too much glass and… _other things_. She didn't want to think about what those _monsters_ had done, beyond the sheer number of wounds the three teenagers had received.

But he'd been in a constant, steady state of sleep ever since he arrived. It gave Andromeda hope. The only thing she was worried about was his right leg; the bones had mended just fine, but the inner damage meant he'd have a limp for the rest of his life. But he'd live. He'd be alright.

As it was, he laid there, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the skeletal metal on his hand and the gauze on his left eye denoting the worst _visible_ damage. Andromeda was no Mind Healer, after all.

" _Hair_ ~," Hermione moaned hoarsely, looking relieved; that was good. Maybe she wasn't as gone as Andromeda thought.

"Yes, he's fine, dear," Andromeda said, a weary smile creeping onto her face, "He's just sleeping, but he should wake up in a day or so, mark my words," she nodded, more for her own assurance than anything; the three of them had been in a rough state.

Hermione didn't notice the nod, didn't even hear her words.

 _Harry!_

 _My Harry!_

 _My Harry is here!_

 _Yes yes yes he is!_

 _Does he need another blanket?_

 _Is he cold?_

 _Maybe Andromeda can move me to his bed, so I can keep him warm!_

 _Oh!_

 _His hand is metal._

 _That's not right, no, not right at all!_

 _Maybe Ron_ _ **can lend him one of his**_ _!_

 _Oh, but not forever, oh no, just until Harry finds his._

 _And I can_ _ **borrow his legs**_ _!_

 _ **He won't need them for a while, anyway**_ _!_

 _Just until his head gets better!_

 _Yes!_

 _Harry will wake up soon, too!_

 _Eeee!_

 _I can't wait!_

 _We can_ _ **kill them together!**_

 _Show them_ _ **revenge!**_

 _Put out their_ _ **eyes**_ _and make them_ _ **bleed**_ _!_

 _ **Open their minds and tear out their dreams!**_

 _But_ first!

… _She needed a cup of tea._

Andromeda didn't know if the wide smile stretching across Hermione's face was a good thing or not.

 **[2]**

Bellatrix couldn't find them, though not for lack of trying.

In the evening two days after what was being called amongst the younger Knights as The Donovan Incident, Pansy had come to Hogwarts, which had been searched to no avail, to report on her progress at the Ministry. Corban Yaxley, a splendid chap by Bella's standards and the new Head of the DMLE, had summoned as many Hit-Wizards as he could to assist her in searching the houses of every registered Healer in Magical Britain; the Dark Lord had matched that by sending a contingent of Knights to bolster those team's numbers.

They'd come up empty; no sign of Potter, Weasley or the Mudblood Granger.

Though, at least now she had a motive in regards to Donovan's actions…

The arse had been hired by Malfoy not long after the Dark Lord's return, one of the Knockturn recruits; he'd distinguished himself after the failed Ministry Op with four successful Muggle-related missions, two of which he'd played a leading role. He'd been assigned one of the less-talented groups of Knights by Lord Nott, hoping the even-headed man with a nasally voice could whip them into shape. That had been six months ago.

It was Theo Nott who found the man's record in the Ministry and, in doing so, gave Bella a lead on just why Donovan nearly murdered Potter and his friends: both of Donovan's parents, Knights in good standing at the time, had been killed by James Potter and Sirius Black in early December 1979 during a raid on an Auror supply depot. Alex Donovan had been a 15-year-old Ravenclaw at the time. It was enough for Bella to establish motive in the Knight's crimes, and clear Draco's name from guilt as her nephew had known none of this.

However, the Dark Witch knew there must be more to the Healer situation; the devil was in the details after all, and after threatening her apprentice with an example of the Dark Lord's _displeasure_ , Bella had those details.

Three Healers had been unaccounted for.

One was in America (and had been for the last four months) assisting on some difficult case, and was scheduled to return to her home in Essex sometime in the next two weeks. Another apparently had read the proverbial writing on the wall back in June; a Muggleborn, he'd gone to ground with his family somewhere in the southern half of central Africa. It would be nearly impossible to find him now.

The third was Bella's lead, the clue she was looking for.

Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Her estranged younger sister. One of eight Master Healers in the British Isles. Her house had been empty when the Carrow twins and their cadre of Hit-Wizards had arrived for a search half an hour before Pansy arrived at Hogwarts.

More than that, there had not been even a speck of dust in the cottage. It was practically a calling card for the House-Elves at Grimmauld.

If anyone could heal those three, in Bellatrix's opinion, it was Andromeda.

The problem now was this: Andromeda was an _extremely_ resourceful witch, had been raised in a Pureblood household, and managed to avoid retribution when she came out as a muggle-lover and blood-traitor. Bellatrix knew that if the woman didn't want to be found, she wouldn't.

Given that she was a Master Healer, it was highly probable that Potter and his friends were alive and recovering steadily; in Bella's opinion, she hoped the Mudblood at least was dead, or at least as mentally crippled as her _legs_. The Dark Witch had looked up the girl's O.W.L scores and recent grades, out of curiosity; if she lived, Bellatrix would be worried. They didn't need someone like _that_ out for blood, especially if they had possible access to _Walburga's entire library_.

Just the _thought_ made her shiver.

Silver lining? Andromeda had a weakness: as a healer, she was of the disposition of helping those who needed it. And dear little Dromy, she had thrown in with Dumbledore's little Order of the Baked Chicken. So all they needed to do was scatter the Order remnants, make them either leave Britain or run to their safe-houses, and, eventually, they'd find Andromeda and, by extension, Potter.

In order to do this, Antonin had put in, the Knights had to make it look like the ship (Magical Britain) was sinking, and follow the rats as they fled. Bella had tossed him a mint-chocolate biscuit for that analogy (a great honor, given that it came from a private stash she kept on her person), and the Dark Lord had been so pleased, when he heard their plan the next morning, he hadn't even punished Draco for the Incident, instead reassigning him to Selwyn for diplomatic security training. Then their Lord had called a meeting, laying out a grand plan that he'd apparently been working out with Lucius for two days.

Which led to now.

Bellatrix looked at her shaking left hand, wondering at her life as she usually did before an important Operation, while the night around her was lit with the psychedelic strobe of spell-fire.

The first time she'd killed, it had…it had been a family of four. A muggy night in July, 1970. Just some Muggles…A wife, husband, young son and their newborn daughter.

After, once she'd been debriefed, rewarded with her Lord's Mark, she'd cried into her husband's arms until she'd fallen asleep. It was a bitter cup to swallow, she mused, that the act of killing had only gotten easier…but Rod had always been there for her.

Rodolphus. Everyone thought she felt nothing for him, a marriage for status alone. Tch. Just because they were better at wearing their masks when around others didn't mean they couldn't take those masks off. He was her one constant, her rock, the only person who could see her for who she truly was. Even after their daughter, Magdalene, had been stillborn and she'd been told that the act of birth had left her barren, he'd stood by her. The torture of the Longbottom family was, unfortunately, a necessary evil for the both of them; they were being hunted, and it was only a matter of time before they were caught and Kissed.

In her heart of hearts, she knew her Lord wasn't dead. Crouch's utterly _mad_ idea that one of the Light families knew where her Lord's remains had been placed just gave Rod, his brother Ben, and herself a way to pass the time until He returned to them. Azkaban wasn't Valencia by a long shot, but needs must, and their Occlumency was top notch.

Not that Barty wasn't a talented, intelligent young man, but he was a _little_ too zealous for Bella's tastes.

With her mask on, any observer to the Dark Witch's thoughts might make a quip about a pot and a kettle, and probably die a gruesome death at her wand seconds later. _No one_ compared the Right Hand to _any_ other Knight of Walpurgis.

With her mask off, on the other hand, such a quip would be rewarded with a cheeky grin, possibly a vivacious wink, followed by a quick and painless death at her wand. She'd spent too much time, after all, putting on the show of being a hardline Pureblood Supremacist for word to get out that she _wasn't_.

Bellatrix Lestrange joined the Knights of Walpurgis not just due to its emphasis on Pureblood traditions, but mostly because of their plan for Muggleborn witches and wizards: the Ministry, under the control of their Lord, would use the book that recorded all new magical births to locate new Muggleborns and spirit them from their parents, replacing them with children from impoverished nations; the Muggles wouldn't know any better, as they'd use a Grey ritual to make the child the parent's flesh and blood in truth.

As for the magical children, they'd be placed amongst established families (Noble, Ancient, both, or simply families that had spent more than thirty years in Britain) and raised as though they were of pure blood. According to private research Bella had done in her sixth year of Hogwarts, this would have a twofold effect on Wizarding Britain: their culture and society would be strengthened through new ideas and mindsets, and the families in question wouldn't have to resort to inbreeding to keep their lines intact.

Her hand convulsed painfully; she clenched it into a fist, gritting her teeth to fight through the pain caused by her Master's wrath four days ago.

So many bloody Ops. So many tortured at her hand. So many _dead_ at her hand. For what?

For _this_.

To see the future of Magical Britain blossom and flourish.

The crash of spells against the target Manor's wards increased in intensity, washing the surrounding forest where Bellatrix and her soldiers stood in a chaotic rainbow of flashing light.

Yesterday morning, the Dark Lord summoned all of his lieutenants for a meeting. At that meeting, he'd given them his vision for the future of Magical Britain, and the world at large.

A perfect world. The world she joined the Knights to help realize.

The vision she'd feared her Lord had forgotten after his return.

First, there would be a census of the magical people living in the country so they'd have an idea how many magicals still lived in Britain, simultaneous with the denouncement of Scrimgeour and Fudge as militant dictators; Thickneese would have to play this carefully, but Lucius, as much as Bella _detested_ him, was a consummate politician. They'd been able to present it well to the Wizengamot, as a revolt by, for, and of the people; Douglass Yaxley, Corban's younger half-blood cousin, would be arriving in Geneva tomorrow to present the new government's plan to the ICW members as Britain's representative.

Risky? Of course it was; any form of subterfuge, from the mundane cloak-and-dagger variety to misdirection and power-plays in the political arena, always came with a modicum of risk. Doubly so when the former Ministry had damned the Knights of Walpurgis as publicly as possible after the assassination of Albus Dumbledore, and especially when said late warlock had been well liked amongst certain influential ICW members.

And how would they explain Dumbledore? Easy: Rufus Scrimgeour placed Harry Potter under the Imperius Curse in order to assassinate a political rival; after all, it was well known the late Minister was occasionally at odds with Dumbledore, what with his penchant for arresting political rivals under the excuse of capturing 'Death Eaters', the public's ridiculous name for the Knights, who were well known internationally as a sort of 'gentle-wizard's militia' that kept the crime rate in Britain down in the 50's and 60's.

It wasn't until the late 70's, shortly after Abraxas Malfoy was murdered by a Muggleborn assassin, that they began executing magicals that came between them and their Lord's vision; not that the ICW needed to know, of course!

Why, just recently, it had been discovered by said Knights that not only Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but his friends Ronald Weasley (solid Quidditch Keeper, Prefect) and Hermione Granger (a young witch of impeccable brilliance, if her OWL scores were anything to go by) had been horrifically brutalized by Scrimgeour's supporters, and were now missing! But fear not; Thickneese had top men looking into the matter, and the Knights had thrown in their support. The Boy-Who-Lived and his friends would be found, and no expense would be spared to ensure their safe return!

It was all Bellatrix could do not to burst out laughing at the look on Snape's face, when their Lord had revealed that part of the plan, honest concern touching their Lord's tone.

Additionally, such things called all sorts of happenings in Magical Britain's government over the past two decades into question, from the marginalization of the Muggleborn population and rumors of general corruption…

To the "trial" of Bellatrix Lestrange. It had been Snape's turn to suppress laughter, but then, Rod had told her with a chuckle that her face had been a right picture, that night as they lay in bed. She'd slapped his chest and laughed with him, the rock she'd tied her frayed sanity to. Bella didn't know what she'd do without him.

Now, Bellatrix knew she was _sort of_ guilty; she _had_ broken the Longbottom's wards, and defeated Alice in a duel, but Barty had done the actual questioning (read: tortured the living daylights out of them). Oh, alright, so she _had_ tossed a Cruciatus or two herself, mostly because that bitch Alice had ruined her third-favorite dress, but she could hardly be faulted for being angry! It was the principle of the matter!

Not that she'd be in the hot-seat taking her Three Drops herself: that would be Pansy, using an extended-life and undetectable version of Polyjuice Severus had been developing since her Lord's return, and Corban would be asking the questions. They'd be doing a rehearsal this Saturday in the ballroom, and the trial was set for September third.

Oh, the look on Augusta Longbottom's _face_. Bella allowed herself a small smile as she looked up at Prewitt Manor's failing wards, the multicolored light making her dark eyes flash in the night, wishing she could have been there to see the right bitch's face when she found out Bella was getting her day in court.

She'd have to ask Lucius for a memory later.

But her Lord wasn't done; he reiterated his original plan for Muggleborn placement, much to the ire-filled mutterings of several at the meeting, particularly Theodore's uncle, the Nott Heir Apparent.

After putting the most vocal of dissidents in line (read: killing them), their Lord ordered Lucius to amend Dolores Umbridge's "Muggleborn Registration Committee" to finding and absorbing all Muggleborn children under the age of eight; any older and there would be issues with Obliviation, both magically and, well, _morally_.

Torturing people for information (or just because) was one thing. Destroying someone's entire childhood didn't sit well even with the most sadistic of Knights, many of whom were still sickened by Donovan's actions.

The second new goal of Um _bitch's_ (Bella had only met the woman once, and hated how she put on airs like she was of noble birth rather than the whore she was, bedding her way into office) Committee, under Lucius' watch, was the contact and education of Muggleborn children, between the ages of eight to seventeen, on proper conduct in polite society. Or Pureblood Etiquette, the tentative name of the class that would be introduced to the Hogwarts curriculum next year.

As for those who would resist these sweeping changes? Well, Bellatrix had mused, the Young Knights _could_ use some practice hitting moving targets…

That had gotten some laughs, and a savage smile from her Lord.

But, as always, business before pleasure.

She had a Weaslette to find.

"I'm ready, Master," Pansy's voice drifted over from her left.

Bella glanced over, bored, at her apprentice; hmm, her student's hair looked _ever-so-slightly_ out of place, and her face was gently flushed, "Giving Theo something to remember him by, hmm?"

Pansy's gentle flush turned to a full-on furious blush, "I-um, we w-were just…err…Well, this, um, _is_ the biggest Op either of us have ever been in, so…"

"Oh, lighten up, Pansy!" Bellatrix laughed, ignoring the bells tolling in the back of her mind, "I was young once, too; and he's a fine lad."

"I-It's not like that!"

"Like what?"

"W-we were just snogging, master; it's not serious," oh, was she getting downcast _again_?

Bella huffed, drawing her wand and checking the throwing knives on her belt as loud crackling came from the wards and the haunting drums in her mind grew louder, ' _Not long now…_ ' "Pansy. _Please_ tell me you're not still holding out for Draco? He's been taken on by Selwyn, along with Daphne, so they'll mostly be doing politics-based jobs, while you'll be commanding our troops."

Pansy sighed before replying, "I'm not pining after Draco, Lady Bella…I…I like Theo, a lot, and I want to tell him how I feel, but…he's so _quiet_!" The young woman huffed crossing her arms and pouting prettily, to Bellatrix's amusement, "I know he feels the same…right?"

Bellatrix shrugged, watching the wards begin to struggle to keep up with the ward-breaker's relentless assault; the last vestiges of Dumbledore's little Order, the only ones who could impede her Lord's vision, were hiding within. The Floo to and from this location was blocked, Anti-Portkey and Apparation wards in place, and a new ward, given to the assault team by their Lord, would keep House-Elves from popping in or out. Even through the dome of failing magic she could see people running frantically to and fro through the windows, preparing to resist the coming assault.

The Dark Witch's had two missions here: apprehend Ginevra Weasley, as well as any who were important members of Potter's little "army" in residence, and find out if anyone present knew of Potter's whereabouts, if he wasn't in the Manor.

There were four groups of eight Knights for the assault, led by herself, Selwyn (he'd been going on about Daphne's remarkable progress, and had put Draco through a crash course in dueling support, so he'd volunteered for the Op), her old friend Antonin with Theo and the Crabbe Heir, and her husband Rodolphus, who'd brought Gregory Goyle and Flora Carrow along for some hands-on. Greyback's pack, having gone through their monthly transformation two days ago, were backing them up in case things went tits-up.

Personally, Bellatrix didn't want the Weres anywhere near this operation; too many things that could go wrong, and given the Greyback's treatment of those he captured…

The last thing they needed was another Donovan.

"Theo's always been shy, Pansy, and what we saw at Grimmauld probably shook him more than you, so do be gentle with your courting," was Bella's curt reply as she marshalled her singing magic for the coming fight, "Once this is over, take a few days to unwind; take him for a walk around the grounds, go see a play, have dinner in Hogsmede," she looked over at Pansy, who was looking at the Dark Witch with wide eyes, probably because Bella was giving her _dating advice_ right before what was sure to be a bloody fight, "You know, show some interest in getting to know _him_ , outside the Knights."

There was a pause, as the wards looked about to fall.

"Is that how you successfully courted Lord Rodolphus, Bellatrix?" Pansy only used her given name when she was truly nervous.

"Put it out of your mind, my student, and steel yourself," Bella snapped, pointing at one of the nearby Knights, who cast a strong Shield Charm in front of their group, "Here we go…"

The siege wards of Prewitt Manor finally crashed down in an avalanche of roaring magic, washing past them as the ley-lines re-absorbed the energies that had, until just now, powered centuries-old protective spells.

" _FOR THE DARK LORD!_ _ **GO!**_ _"_ Bellatrix cried, darting forward, black smoke trailing behind her as she and her Knights quickly shot toward the Manor in wedge formation.

Around the manor, cheers went up as the other teams made their move, a tide of dark fog encircling the mansion marking their advance and closing about it like a noose.

A hail of spellfire and shouted incantations met the rushing Knights from shattered windows, broken by the falling wards.

Screams.

 _Fire_.

 _She felt_ _ **alive**_ _._

Bellatrix's body _sang_ as she dodged an over-powered cutting curse and threw a Blasting Curse at a wizard in Auror's robes, shredding the man along with most of the window frame he was stood in.

She was inside, ducking a Withering Curse and flicking a knife into the throat of the old woman who'd cast the spell, sending the witch went to the Styx with a sucking gurgle.

A cluster of stunners flew past her, striking four other rebels and stopping them as they tried to regroup _. Incarcerous_ Charms bound them a half-second later.

Bella's gaze flicked over her team: Pansy had a cut on her shoulder, and two of her Knights were missing.

Pansy, "Rickard and Oates hit the upstairs," loud cracks came from above them, accompanied by screams.

 _Beat_.

Sounds of fighting echoed through the Manor. The baying of hounds rang betwixt Bellatrix's ears, whispers roaring in the back of her mind, ' ** _Time to get to work_** _…_ '

"Tabit **ha** ," a female Knight looked at her, Bella's voice warbling as her magic roiled maniacally through her, "take t **w** o and g **o a** ssist th **em**. The r **es** t of you: **with me**."

 _Her world dissolved into a discordant symphony of violence and pleasure, lust and_ _ **agony**_ _. This was_ _ **Bellatrix**_ _at h_ _ **e**_ _r pur_ _ **est.**_

 ** _AND SHE LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT._**

 _Two_ _ **redheads, twins,**_ _taking down a Kni_ _ **ght in a spray of red**_ _before Bella came upon them._

 _They were g_ _ **oo**_ _d_ and _fast; it was like_ _ **due**_ _ling tw_ _ **o Anto**_ _nin's at once._

 _Duck pa_ _ **rry rip**_ _oste_ _ **crucio**_ _missed cut_ _ **cut stun missed**_ _-_

 _The hallway went black. PIDP_ _ *****_ _._ _ **Banish**_ _._

 _They were gone, usin_ _ **g fire**_ _works to cover their_ _ **escape**_ _across the lawn._ _ **Rats from the ship**_ _._

 _A_ _ **blas**_ _t from the conservatory, where Sel_ _ **wyn**_ _had been attacking. Assist._

 _Pansy moving at her back, wa_ _ **tching**_ _corners for t_ _ **hreats**_ _, her other Knights_ _ **kicking dow**_ _n doors to check f_ _ **or hiding r**_ _ats._

 _The conservatory…_

 ** _Selwyn was dead_** _, his top half lying lifeless at her feet; the glass room looked_ _ **like a war**_ _-zone: craters pockmarked the for_ _ **merly gree**_ _n space, bodies of three Weres im_ _ **pal**_ _ed by multiple co_ _ **njur**_ _ed silver javeli_ _ **ns and tw**_ _o Knights ly_ _ **ing dead among**_ _st the shattered glass and wood, the remaining Knights along with_ _ **Draco**_ _, who was_ _ **gripping**_ _his side with a grimace, and_ _ **Daphne**_ _, firing spells from behind conjured blocks o_ _ **f ir**_ _on at a granite wall tha_ _ **t was rath**_ _er resilient._

 _"LES_ _ **TR**_ _AN_ _ **GE!" a redhead girl**_ _, face and magic full of_ _ **delicious**_ _fury, leveling her wand around the corner of the stone wall at the Dark Witch._

 _'_ **Primary target acquired. Engaging.** '

" _BOMBA_ _ **RDA MA**_ _XIMA!" Ginny Weasley cried; the blue-_ _ **silver blast rock**_ _eted at Bella._

 _Pansy and the other Knights dove for cover or quickly conjured it-_

 ** _While Bellatrix cackled madly, whipping her wand up at the spell as it reached her._**

 _Her wand tip caught the spell and_ _ **she**_ **twisted** **it,** ** _sending_** _the altered spell with a flick at the now-horrified girl's cover._

 _It vanished like a popped soap bubble, knocking both the Weasley girl and a wispy blonde off balance._

 _Daphne's timely Stunner caught the redhead in the face before she fell to the ground._

 _The blonde, however, swatted the spells away before regaining her feet and levelling her wand at Bella with a cold gaze._

 _"Yo_ _ **u'r**_ _e sur_ _ **rou**_ _nded!_ _ **Dr**_ _op y_ _ **o**_ _ur wand, L_ _ **ovegoo**_ _d!" Pansy ordered, her voice echoing oddly in Bellatrix's mind._

 _Luna Lovegood tilted her head thoughtfully, not taking her eyes or wand off Bellatrix, "N_ _ **o. I**_ _don't th_ _ **i**_ _nk I_ _ **wi**_ _ll._ Avad **a Ked** avra."

 _'_ I need a drink. Or three,' _Bellatrix thought as she dodged the_ _ **fatal green curse**_ _before furiously exchanging spells with the cold-eyed girl._

 ** _Disarmer crucio_** _stunner parry disarmer_ _ **cutter bone-breaker cutter dodge incarcerous crucio**_ _deflect stunner_ _ **withering**_ _stunner deflect_ _ **piercer**_ **GOT HER**!

' **Mission complete.** '

It took her but a moment to re-suppress the Dark bloodlust permeating her mind like cobwebs to a point where it was manageable; she had to find out what happened here, and for that she needed to be as _calm_ and _collected_ as possible.

Puffing with exertion, Bella cast one last incarcerous and Stunner at the screaming girl for good measure before slumping against a broken wall. The sounds of battle had lessened, replaced with barked orders and a woman's terrified screams as Greyback and his Weres took her away.

"Time?" She gasped at the nearest Knight, Rickard, who was panting with exertion himself and had a cut on his brow.

"Three minutes, Madam Bellatrix. Oates is dead. Tabitha and I bagged Lovegood's father in the library, along with the Mudblood Dead Thomas. She's taking them to the ballroom in the east wing." Bellatrix nodded in approval, pulling a Pepper-Up out of one of the hidden pockets in her armor and downing it. She barely tasted it.

' _I'm getting too old for this shite._ '

Pansy looked at Draco and Daphne, "What the Hel happened, you two?"

"That _bitch_ Lovegood," growled the Greengrass heiress, dark hair a mess, healing a shallow cut on the back of her off-hand, "She threw _two_ silent Siege-grade Bombardments at us right after we came in, with that redhead _slut_ shooting off those silver spears-"

"Modified Flechette curse, Auntie," Draco put in through gritted teeth, pulling a large bloody splinter out of a gap in his Horntail armor, "Caught Jones in the arm, but she healed it," another Knight, with mousy brown hair, gave Bellatrix a thumbs-up from where she was healing a gash on another Knight's face before moving to Bella's nephew.

"Thanks, Draco," Daphne's voice was ice, before going on in a normal tone, "They tried to fight past us, but ended up covering the rouge Were, Lupin, as he fled with a contingent of eight. We held firm against their onslaught, and you showed up around fifteen seconds after Lupin left."

Pansy snorted, rolling her eyes in a way that **pissed Bella off** , "And you couldn't stop them? Typical! If _I'd_ been here-"

" _Crucio._ "

Whatever Pansy had been about to say was obliterated as she fell to the ground, her mouth and eyes wide open in a perfect picture of horrified agony as Bellatrix punished her apprentice.

Letting up after a ten-count, Bellatrix growled dangerously, making every Knight move back slightly in fear as she spoke in a gritty voice, " **What have I told you about humility, you stuck-up little bitch?!** " Pansy was too busy sobbing in gasps and trying to get her convulsions under control to answer, so Bella went on in a frighteningly calm voice, " **If you can't get that attitude of yours under control, you will** ** _never_** **be able to reach the heights I** ** _know_** **you are capable of reaching; so for the rest of the evening, you'll keep** ** _your pretty mouth shut and let me do my job_** **. Are we clear?** " She watched as Pansy nodded, tears in her fearful eyes, "Good. Draco. Help Pansy with the prisoners. To the ballroom."

She swept from the ruined conservatory, heading to the nearest loo for a quick purge of her stomach and a couple Lung-Clearing potions. Using Dark Magic, after all, always came with a price.

 **[2]**

Muriel Prewitt. Molly Weasley. Ginny Weasley. Dean Thomas. Xeno Lovegood and his daughter Luna. Lisa Turpin. Roger Goodwin.

Eight prisoners. Not too bad, but she'd expected more. "Where are the others?" Bellatrix asked Antonin, having calmed down over the past twenty minutes. They were now in the well-lit ballroom of Prewitt Manor, their captives keeling in line before them, hands bound behind their backs and in various states of dishevelment; from Ms. Turpin, who'd surrendered without a fight, to Ms. Lovegood and Ms. Weasley, who'd fought like demons and looked like they'd been through the ringer for it.

"Dead or fled," Antonin grumped around his pipe, "It might set your heart at ease to know that dumb fuck Dawlish got a piercer between the eyes; oh, and nice shot, Theo," the young Knight nodded from next to the doors, hands in his pockets and looking bored.

A memory flicked into Bellatrix's mind, "Who'd Greyback get?" Several of the prisoners flinched.

"Remember that dark-haired girl what helped Rosemerta tend bar?"

"Ah. That's too bad for her. Down to business, then," the Right Hand began pacing before the remaining prisoners regarding each of them, "The rest of you are quite lucky. All you have to do is answer one question truthfully, and you'll be free to go; except… _you_ , Ms. Weasley." She pointed at said teenager, whose eyes widened in terror, "The Dark Lord would like a word-"

" _NO!_ " Molly Weasley roared, " _YOU CAN'T-"_

Daphne, who was standing behind the Weasley matriarch, did the honors, " _Crucio!_ "

Five seconds of screaming later, Bellatrix continued into the ringing echo of Mrs. Weasley's torture, "As I was saying, the Dark Lord would like a word with you, Ginevra Weasley, and he won't be taking no for an answer." She snapped her fingers, Lester and Olaf (who had recovered after helping bring down the Manor's wards) moving up behind said girl.

Who was looking at her sobbing mother in mingled shock and horror, and almost didn't resist until they'd hauled her to her feet; then she began kicking and screaming defiance…for all of two seconds, as Olaf silently Stunned her. On the floor, her mother kept whimpering ' _not my daughter, no please not my Ginny'_.

"Fear not, ma'am," deadpanned Bellatrix in boredom as her curse-breakers hauled the limp girl to the doors so she could be Portkeyed to Malfoy Manor, "I promise, she'll not be harmed during her stay with us, and so long as you cooperate I have no doubt you'll see her again; now, for the question that will earn the rest of you your freedom…" she let silence fall for a moment, relishing in the drama of the moment, "…Where is Andromeda Tonks?"

It was Luna who answered a few seconds later, her voice airy and light, "We don't know. You see, several people _knew_ where she is, currently, but you let all of those through. Or killed them, in the case of poor Auror Dawlish."

" _Luna!_ " Dean Thomas growled, face incredulous, "What are you _doing?_ "

The bruised-up blonde blinked at him curiously, "Saving your lives?"

Rodolphus smirked, shaking his head, "Assuming we believe someone who cast the _Killing Curse_ at my _wife_ a short while ago, how do we know none of _you_ know where any safe-houses are?"

Silence again. Not good silence either…

Bellatrix tilted her head to one side, speaking in a mock-surprised tone, "Oh, are we actually doing this? Your lives are on the line and you're being _defiant_?"

"We won't give up our friends, you corpse-humping _mad dog_ ," Muriel Prewitt retorted with all the arrogance and pomp of a true Pureblood, even holding her head up high as she made her declaration.

More bad silence. Bellatrix **hated** bad silence. It reminded her of Azkaban.

So she killed the bitch. Blew out her brains with a silent piercing curse through her left eye.

Molly Weasley choked in horror as her mother collapsed with a wet _splat_ next to where she lay, jerking away from the slowly cooling corpse, "N-No!" before the woman could go on, Daphne grabbed her from behind and dragged the matron back to her knees.

Bellatrix addressed the prisoners in a bored tone, "I have no problem killing each of you, one by one, and neither does anyone in this room," she gave a curt nod to Daphne, who nodded grimly and pressed the tip of her wand into the crown of a sobbing Molly Weasley's head, "Shall we make it two for two, then? Two generations of Prewitt's in a single night?"

It was Lisa Turpin who broke, her voice cracking with barely contained fearful sobs, "None of us know where the safe-houses are! Only four people really knew!"

" _Fuck's sake Lisa_ ," Mr. Goodwin hissed. Ms. Turpin's mouth shut, though she was clearly trying not to break down again.

Bellatrix's dangerously soft voice called over from where she was stood before Mrs. Weasley, "No, do go on, Ms. Turpin. Other than Auror Dawlish, who knew?" The brunette girl shook her head in fear, clearly not wanting to say more, "Hmm. No answer? Are you _sure_?"

Save Mrs. Weasley's panicked breathing, no sound was in the room for five long seconds.

" _Tch._ Stupid girl. Draco?" The boy looked up from where he'd been glaring at the back of Ms. Lovegood's head, "Three drops. _Imperio._ " Ms. Turpin's eyes glazed over.

Mr. Goodwin snarled, about to rise; Heir Goyle's fist crashed into the back of his head, knocking him out.

Moments later, Ms. Turpin was sobbing as hard as Mrs. Weasley and Bellatrix had three names.

Kingsley Shacklebolt. Remus Lupin. Arthur Weasley.

Bellatrix conferred with her fellow Inner-Circle Members quietly, moving away from the prisoners, "Shall we let them go then?"

Antonin sneered, "I say we take the Lovegood girl; she _did_ kill Selwyn, after all."

"We could," admitted Rodolphus with a frown, "Just…What would we _do_ with her? All we'd have, given the Dark Lord's latest decree, is another mouth to feed."

"Still," shrugged Bella's old partner, "She went toe-to-toe with _two_ of our Young Knights; if she could be broken or turned…"

"Hmm," Bellatrix mulled a few ideas over in her mind, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl, who was watching the conference with a vacant expression; unnerving, as the rest of the captives were in various states of fear, "While I admit she _could_ be useful, Rodolphus is correct; we already have Ms. Weasley, and none of these know Potter's current whereabouts. They are useless," to the Young Knights she called, "Release them!"

Pansy, who'd been standing apart from the group, saluted her and gestured for her peers to vanish their captive's bonds. They did so, Draco doing so hesitantly and keeping his wand on Ms. Lovegood.

Antonin cleared his throat, "Be grateful for this mercy but know this: should any of you raise your wand against us again, we'll give no quarter."

Ms. Lovegood tilted her head, running a hand through her hair, "What about radishes? Can we raise those against you?"

Not much surprised Bellatrix anymore, so to feel that again was…surprisingly refreshing…and rather annoying. Antonin apparently felt the same, as he spluttered before replying incredulously, "W-What? The Hel would you do with _rad-_ "

Several things happened at once.

Luna's hand snapped out, a radish earring flying straight at Bella's face-

Bellatrix, sensing magic at play, raised a shimmering red shield with a thought-

Draco shot a Killing Curse at the girl's back-

 **Boom**.

Once Bella's ears stopped ringing and the room righted itself, she quickly took in her surroundings: Rod and Ant getting to their feet and shaking their heads, Margaret and Gawain keeping the captives in line along with Rickard and Tabitha, except-

Xenophillius Lovegood was lying on the ground, too still, his daughter being held upright with her hands behind her back by Goyle while Crabbe swung his fists into her slight body with meaty _thwacks_.

"ENOUGH!" Bellatrix roared, bringing the room to order; at their mercy, surrounded by veteran Knights and their apprentices, and the girl _still_ defied them. Bellatrix strode to the wispy blonde, young Vincent moving out of the way with an anticipatory grin.

The Dark Witch, Right Hand of Lord Voldemort, grabbed the girl's chin and forced bruised face up; her eyes were still cold. "Did you think you could kill me so easily, little girl?"

Luna's response was as cold as her gaze, "My only regrets are that my papa died for me," Bella sneered, "and that I won't live to see you die screaming, you monster." And she _spat in her face_.

Nearly every inch of Bellatrix began screaming to make this girl _pay_ for her impudence, to torture her until she was an unfeeling shell, to give her to Greyback so that she'd discover all the fates that existed which were worse than simply dying.

A thousand different ways she could _utterly destroy_ this girl flew through her mind.

 _And one way that would make her useful_.

One way…that would give Bellatrix what she'd wanted but could never have.

 _Family…_

Bellatrix grinned widely, the vacant expression on Luna's face showing a tinge of fear at the sight, "Oh, my dear girl… ** _you just might live to see that_**. _Stupefy_."

 **[2]**

 _"Ahhhhh!"_

 _"Shhh…Don't worry, no one will ever hurt you again. I won't let them."_

 _"*sniff* P-Promise?"_

 _"I promise. No one will even know you're here."_

One moment, there had been nothing but _pain_. Unbearable, worse than anything Voldemort had ever visited upon him.

But now…now Harry almost wished for it.

He was lying on his back, looking at the ceiling of Number 4 Privet Drive's basement, remembering the last time he'd seen it, the last time he'd been down here.

Not in the real Number 4, but _here_ ; in the darkest recesses of his mind, where even Snape hadn't dared tread.

His deepest, darkest secret.

 _"I'd like to see what it's like outside, you know?"_

 _"Why? You've never really wanted to leave before…Well, not_ often _…"_

 _"You're going off to_ _ **magic school**_ _,_ _ **dummy**_ _! I wanna_ _ **see it**_ _! And seeing as you won't_ _ **let me out**_ _…"_

 _"You'd make people mad, if I let you out."_

 _"I_ _ **know**_ _…but, please? Can I see?"_

 _"Okay…hold on a sec, I'll bring over the telly. That should work."_

 _"…Thanks, Harry."_

 _"No problem, Harriet."_

He couldn't remember where she came from, only that she represented everything he _wasn't_. Anger. Lust. Pride. Ambition. Curiosity. Intelligence. Hatred.

Everything that the Dursleys hated in him, _she_ was.

Harriet.

 _"Seriously, the back of his head!"_

 _"_ _ **Ugh**_ _, no wonder he was killing the unicorns. That doesn't sound healthy_ _ **at all**_ _."_

 _"It was bloody scary is what it was! Can you believe he's not dead yet either?"_

 _"_ _ **I think the Headmaster's hiding something**_ _. He wouldn't_ _ **answer**_ _you straightly."_

 _"He said I'm not old enough yet."_

 _"You're old enough to fight an_ _ **undead Dark Lord, but not old enough to know why he's after you**_ _?"_

 _"Harriet…"_

 _"_ _ **Oh, FINE, you ignorant boob**_ _! … Could I get a book, Harry? One you haven't read yet?"_

 _He laughs, back against the door, "Don't know how I'll do that, 'Ritts, but I'll try."_

 _"D-Don't shorten my name like that!"_

 _Harry laughs again._

 _"*snicker* Arse…"_

He could remember a time, before Hogwarts, when he was nine or so; she had started existing around then. A crying girl was suddenly in his cupboard. A girl that _looked just like him_.

She'd been hurt real bad, but had started healing herself almost as soon as she appeared. The Dursleys wouldn't like that, it had occurred to him at the time; if she was a freak, like him, they'd hurt her, just like they hurt Harry whenever he did something freakish.

So he hid her in the basement, putting a spare mattress in an unused corner; Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never went down there, and there was a small loo that no one but Harry had ever used, so she'd be safe until Harry could find out how to get her out of the house without anyone noticing. Before he went back upstairs, though, he'd hugged her and promised that no one would hurt her again.

Then he'd woken up.

 _"Harry?"_

 _"…Yeah?"_

 _"That was a_ _ **really big bloody snake**_ _."_

 _"…Yeah."_

 _"This_ _ **Riddle**_ _fellow doesn't seem like a very pleasant person. Next time he comes around-"_

 _"Harriet, I_ can't let you out. _You'll get hurt, or you might hurt my friends."_

 _"…_ _ **WHAT**_ _? I would_ _ **never hurt them**_ _! Do you know how_ _ **worried I was**_ _, when Hermione got-got…"_

 _"…Are you okay?"_

 _"*sniffle* Y-Yeah, I'm_ _ **good**_ _. I…I just…_ _ **never mind**_ _."_

 _Harry grins, "Merlin's pants, you like Hermione don't you?"_

 _"_ _ **WHAT**_ _?! NO! I…She's_ _ **your**_ _friend, Harry, just like Ron! They'd_ _ **never get along**_ _with a Slytherin like me…"_

 _"They wouldn't hurt you…but someone else might. Stop trying to trick me, Harriet."_

 _"_ _ **Never**_ _. You know_ _ **what I want most**_ _."_

 _"…Someday, Harriet, but not yet."_

 _"_ _ **Fine**_ _."_

After the Chamber, he'd started hearing her when he was awake, usually when he was angry or frustrated with something; when Uncle Vernon's sister Marge had insulted his parents, she'd _screamed_.

 _"HARRIET, WHAT THE HELL?!"_

 _"_ _ **MY FABULOUSLY MESSY HAIR IS WHAT THE HELL**_ _! THAT_ _ **UTTER BITCH DESERVED IT AND YOU KNOW IT**_ _!"_

 _"…"_

 _"_ _ **WHAT**_ _?"_

 _"…"_

 _"_ _ **Err…**_ _Harry?"_

 _"…If I get expelled, I'm taking the telly back."_

 _"Aww…No fair."_

 _"_ Please _don't do that again."_

 _"But…But_ _ **she**_ _-"_

 _"I know! I bloody well_ know _she deserved it! That doesn't make it_ right _! On top of that, I'm the one flying the broom here, and when you do things like that, it hurts! Don't. Do. It. Again. Got it?"_

 _"_ _ **Tch,**_ **fine** ** _. I won't do it again, unless our lives are in danger_** _. That sound good to you?"_

 _"*sigh* Okay, that's fine. Do you need more candles?"_

 _"Nah, I'm good. Question, though."_

 _"Shoot."_

 _"Why the_ _ **blue fuck**_ _are you taking_ _ **Divination**_ _instead of Ancient Runes?"_

 _"Easy O. Or so Ron says…"_

 _"_ _ **Wuss**_ _."_

 _"Goodnight, Harriet."_

She'd told him, a few days into first year, that the Sorting Hat had noticed her in his mind. That was why it had suggested Slytherin: Harry may have been a Gryffindor tried and true, but Harriet was Slytherin to the core. Not Malfoy Slytherin, but a _true_ Slytherin; she was cunning, ruthless, and always looking for new ways to gain influence.

It made Harry rather uncomfortable, made him question just how sane he was.

 _"~Cho and Harry sitting in a tree! K-I-S-"_

 _"BLOODY STOP, WOULD YOU?!"_

 _"Hahahahaha!"_

 _"It's not funny you know?"_

 _"Are you having me on? It's_ _ **hilarious**_ _!"_

 _"*sigh* Everything that's happened this year, and_ that's _what made an impression on you?"_

 _"_ _ **Tch, that was all tame, compared to last year**_ _. Time travel was awesome, though."_

 _"Yeah…About that."_

 _"Yup, I_ _ **totally**_ _powered your Patronus. You're welcome."_

 _"How are you even_ doing _this?"_

 _"Uh, because I'm_ _ **a part of you**_ _, silly. Do you need a_ _ **sticky note on the door**_ _to remind you or something?"_

 _"No, I get that; I meant how did you power the Patronus?"_

 _"Oh, that. I just thought of the fuzzy feeling I get when Hermione hugs you."_

 _"…~Harriet and Hermione sitting in a tree!"_

 _"_ _ **I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH ON HER YOU JERKASS**_ _!"_

 _"At least I don't deny I have a crush on Cho!"_

 _"_ **LEMME OUTTA HERE SO I CAN POUND YOU, POTTER**! **_I'LL HAVE YOU WISHING I WAS THE DARK LORD_** _!"_

 _"…"_

 _"…Harry, I-I didn't mean-"_

 _"Goodnight."_

 _"Harry!"_

After that conversation, he'd looked into psychology books at the Surrey Public Library; after a few weeks of digging, he found a condition that sounded like it fit: Dissociative Personality Disorder.

Sure, he had a name for how Harriet came into being now, but he still didn't know how that was. On top of that, she'd been quiet for the whole summer, and only gave him a few sentences of advice during his fourth year. She'd been really excited for the Yule Ball, though, but she'd apparently fainted on seeing Hermione's dress. Hopeless, he'd said to her afterward; she was hopeless. Then Harriet had gone back to ignoring him, but as Harry was rather distracted with the Second and Third Tasks, he'd barely noticed her absence in his mind.

Their next conversation didn't happen until after the year ended. It would be their last.

 _"_ _ **What the fuck. No, seriously Harry,**_ **what the fuck**."

 _"Yeah…He's back."_

 _"Why didn't you_ _ **let me out**_ _?_ _ **I could have helped**_ _!"_

 _The basement door was cool against his back, "Or got us killed. It was_ him _, Harriet."_

 _"You think I don't fucking_ _ **know that**_ _? OH, and_ _ **you're welcome**_ _, by the way! It might have just been half the pain, but that Cruciatus hurt like…well, it wasn't as bad as what_ _ **Vernon**_ _did, when I was made, but_ _ **still**_ _! Besides, I've been practicing down here! I know as much as you do, too! If not_ _ **more**_ _! I know you don't like the idea of putting me in danger, but you_ _ **need me now**_ _!"_

 _"…How_ were _you made, Harriet? Why are you in my dreams, sometimes?_

 _"…"_

 _"…Harriet?"_

 _"_ _ **I'm not a dream.**_ _"_

 _"I…Never said you were."_

 _"_ _ **You know what I am**_ _."_

 _"But I don't know how it happened! I don't remember!"_

 _"_ _ **You won't let me out, will you**_ _?"_

 _"I…I can't…"_

 _Steps, receding back down the stairs._

 _"Harriet?!"_

 _Silence._

 _"…Goodnight, Harriet."_

She hadn't talked to him since then. After a while, with him knocking on the door and her not answering, he figured she just disappeared. Like an imaginary friend. Sometimes, in the short time he was with Cho, he found himself missing Harriet; girls were weird, but Harriet wasn't _that_ weird, so he wanted her advice. Harry must have spent hours, leaning against the locked basement door, talking about his relationship with Cho and occasionally asking for advice, hoping, wishing, she'd answer.

While she was in the basement, he was safe, and so was she. He wouldn't get hurt, and no one would hurt her. Harry didn't know why that made sense, but it did.

She never answered. After he and Cho broke up, he screamed at the door for an entire night, blaming her for not helping him.

 _"Please Harriet, I'm sorry! Please talk to me!"_

 _"…"_

 _"Are you even in there?! ANSWER ME!"_

 _"…"_

 _"…FINE! ROT DOWN THERE!"_

In hindsight, Harry mused as he looked at a hot water pipe and heard the patter of bare feet on stone, he _probably_ should have let her out now and again to keep her happy.

He sighed, resigned, "It's been awhile, hasn't it? Gotta admit though, you didn't _really_ have to be all dramatic with your comeback. I almost thought you were Voldemort, for a second."

The patter stopped, somewhere above his head.

Harry closed his eyes, "Look, I've gotten the silent treatment enough times in real life, but this is serious. Just…say something."

A beat.

" **Sirius is** ** _dead_** **; this is a basement**." Her voice made Harry wince. It sounded like it did when she was _really_ upset about something.

Given the circumstances…Harry couldn't blame her, "I take it you saw that, then?"

" **Saw what? You getting an arm cut off, Ron taking that piercing curse, or Hermione's eyes getting crushed? Or maybe you're talking about Sirius falling through the Veil, or Tommy boy possessing you? You'll have to be more specific, ickle-Harrikins.** "

Harry opened his eyes. And _there she was_ , looking down at him.

Shoulder length black hair, falling like a chaotic waterfall about her face, so much like his but more feminine, harder than his own features, cold eyes looking down at him with distaste; her arms were wrapped around her torso, nails painted green. Detachedly, he noted her breasts were slightly larger than Hermione's, right around the same size as Ginny-

 _What the fuck was he thinking?_

He cleared his throat, "So, are we dead?"

Harriet sneered at him, " **Please. As if I'd give up my chance at freedom so easily. No, you simpleton; we're very much alive, no thanks to you**."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, meaning every word he said, "I should have let you out-"

" **Save it. I don't need your pity, or your far-too-late apologies** ," she spat, face contorted in fury, " **You may be the primary personality of this body we both inhabit, but you put all your ambition and cunning into me when we broke in two. So…just fuck off for a bit longer while I finish** ," and she stepped out of his range of vision. After a moment, he heard the sound of scratching on the floor above his head.

It was around this time Harry realized he couldn't move. He lying flat on his back, palms flat on the cool stone floor; he couldn't turn his head or move anything except his eyes and mouth. _'Not good._ ' "So, um, you read that psychology book when I did, huh?"

The scratching sound didn't pause as Harriet answered, " **No shit, Sherlock. Your train-wreck of a life is the only thing playing on the telly, and it's on every channel**."

"Look, I know we've been at odds for a while," she scoffed, but Harry soldiered on, "but given all we've been through together, don't you think I should at least have an explanation?"

" **No.** "

"Not even about how we came into being?"

The scratching stopped.

In the silence that followed, Harry thought about how he'd phrased that sentence; for some reason, it sent a chill through him. "Err, I mean-"

" **No, actually, that's a valid question** ," Harriet replied in a soft voice that reminded Harry unnervingly of Bellatrix Lestrange, " **You already know we're the product of a psychotic break, but you still don't know** ** _why_** **, beyond the subconscious realization that I must be kept hidden and safe**."

"No, _you're_ the split personality. I think you've got it-"

Her face reappeared suddenly, identical green eyes staring into each other, her silky hair shifting smoothly with the movement; he wondered what it felt like, now.

" **What? Wrong? I doubt that** ** _very much_** **, Harry. See, you're the primary personality, but that doesn't make you the** ** _original_** **personality; you're just what our once-joined mind told itself it needed to create in order to** ** _survive_** ," she whispered, barely blinking as she explained her theory to Harry, who was becoming more nervous with every word she spoke, " **In order to survive** ** _the conditions we lived in_** **, we separated from each other: I would be kept safe, the personification of everything you felt you didn't need, while you made sure everything was hunky-dory with our…** ** _relatives_**." The last word was said with a sibilant hiss, making Harry think of Parseltounge.

"You…I know you didn't care for them much-" he was cut off as she suddenly began laughing hysterically. ' _This is bad. Real bad. She's gone mad. I need to find my wand._ ' Harry strained to move, but found he still couldn't.

" **Didn't care for them much, he says! HAHAHAHA! Oh, Harry, Harold, ickle-Harrikins…** ** _They're the reason we split in the first place_** ," Harriet's grin was more a grimace, her face the epitome of _malice_.

Harry, on the other hand, was looking at her incredulously, "What are you talking about? I'd remember something like that!"

Harriet waved a finger in his face, " **Nope. Nope nope nope. Not if it was in violation of the parameters created by the original us**."

"I'M THE ORIGINAL!"

She slapped him. _Hard_. The crack seemed to echo through the room in the silence that followed.

Her voice was hard as iron when Harriet began speaking again, " **You're not. Neither of us are. What you've forgotten,** ** _I_** **remember. Why do you think I was crying when you found me? Hmm? Because** ** _I remember what they did to us_** **. Every beating, every time they called us** ** _freak_** **, every time we acted out just because we wanted them to** ** _accept us and love us_**."

Harry didn't understand, "W-I never wanted them to!"

" **Like I said, you don't remember…** ** _Just Harry_** ," Harriet giggled, cold eyes searching his face for reaction.

She wasn't disappointed: Harry's face went through a series of contortions as he tried to find out what she meant by that; surprised, disbelieving, confused, and angry at her for lying, he finally responded, "You-You don't know what you're talking about. I'm-"

She cut him off coldly, " **It doesn't matter what you think you are;** ** _I_** **remember** ** _us_** **, being one person. I remember thinking those evil relatives of ours must want a** ** _niece_** **instead of a nephew, and changing accordingly. Oh yes** ," said Harriet to Harry's doubtful expression, " **I'm sure you remember growing our hair back after that right cunt chopped it off? We're a Metamorph, like Tonks. Vernon didn't like that very much, but you'll know all about that in a minute, and I'm tired of talking to you**."

"Oh yeah? How?"

Harriet replied easily as she went back to carving on the floor with Harry's wand, " **A runic ritual based in Occlumency that'll re-combine our psyches and create one personality; after all, magic created us. Split us in two. Magic can make us one again**."

Harry had never felt so lost, "I've never studied Runes or rituals, though! How do _you_ know them?!"

" **Taking over your body when you go to sleep and reading under the Cloak in the Hogwarts Library for the past two years. Or the Room of Requirement, but I usually just practiced dueling in there** ," was Harriet's distracted reply, " **Oh, and I sometimes read Hermione's notes if I got lost, but usually I just watched her sleep; she has the** ** _cutest_** **snore, a little whistle followed by a kitten-esque mewl. It's so** ** _adorable_** **. I watched Ron too, sometimes, but mostly because I think he's** ** _hot_** ," and she giggled demurely while Harry just felt _sick_.

"HOW-WHAT- _AAARGH!_ HOW ARE YOU EVEN ABLE TO GET OUT?!"

" **Thank Professor Snape for giving me a way** ," Harriet's face reappeared above him, grinning cruelly, " **Tommy-boy gave him orders to create a Legilimency bridge between your mind and his, but Snapey-Snape was never able to find** ** _me_** **; fifth year was hard, between Snape and Moldy-Shorts, but I had a** ** _blast_** **studying last year. I repurposed that bridge into a way out of this basement, and found out how to make myself** ** _real_** **. Like I've always wanted**."

Then she rapped Harry's wand seven times against the ritual circle he was lying in, taking up one half of the large array of Runes; they began glowing bright gold right as she tossed the wand aside, lying on her back in the same position as Harry, the tops of their heads only an inch apart.

"H-Hold on! Supposing you're right, how do you know this won't just kill us?!"

" **You'll find out in a second, once we're whole** ," and she took hold of the half of Harry James Potter's magic granted to her, and _drove it into the array_.

A bare second later, Harry gasped as his own magic was **drained,** a **sudden** feeling, **like** a **thread** was **connecting** his **mind** to **Harriet's** rippling **through** them **both** , the **required** words **pulled** from **their** lips **with** a **shared** t **h** o **u** g **h** t:

"A **S** W **E** W **I** L **L** I **T,** S **O** M **O** T **E** I **T** B **E!** "

And Harry **remembered…**

 **[2]**

His reflection winking at him, the Stone in his pocket

Vernon holding her down in the cupboard, _nostopithurtsplease_

Basilisk fang in his shoulder, stabbing the Diary, Riddle screaming

Harry wishing her a happy birthday, he even brought a cupcake this time

A hundred Dementors, coming to drink his life

Thinking of Hermione's hugs, sending the feeling into the Patronus

The Dark Mark over the World Cup

Reading books while Harry sleeps, because she doesn't need to sleep

The First Task

The Second Task

The Graveyard

Their falling out

Books in the Library and training in the Room

Detentions with Umbridge and the Ministry

Quidditch and kissing Ginny

Defense

Potions

Charms

Transfiguration

Herbology

Ancient Runes

Arithmancy

Care

History

Divination

Cooking, gardening, keeping house

Horcruxes

Sirius

Dumbledore

 ** _Grimmauld Place_**

 **'That nasally-voiced bastard better still be alive.'**

'I owe him a beating…'

At midnight, in a valley hidden away in eastern France, lying in a room with his two broken friends, Harry James Potter's one remaining eye opened….

And his cracked, scarred lips curled into a grin. ' _I'm_ _ **back**_ _…'_

 **[2]**

 **A/N:**

 ***PIDP: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.**

 **Tactical explosive radish earrings, I'm tellin' ya!**

 **Poor Hermione, she's gone insane. And has access to Walburga's library…*runs***

 **Have no fear, readers! I know exactly where this story is going, even if it doesn't seem that way.**

 **I think I'm going to take a week break before going back to 'A Witch's Tale'. Too much depressing music went into writing this story…**

 **Did you like it? Hate it? Have a question on a scene or three?**

 **Review! And I'll get back to you at my earliest convenience! Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night!**

 **~Baked**


	4. 3

**And now, please welcome our guest presenter for this story's pre-chapter warning-**

 **Monty Python's Eric Idle**

 **[APPLAUSE]**

 ***camera shows Eric Idle sitting behind a news desk, drinking tea***

 ***Idle notices the audience, quickly places down tea, picking up a stack of index cards***

 **Idle: *clears throat, smiling nervously* Ah and now…full frontal nudity!**

 ** _BLAM!_**

 ***a smoking hole is blown in the desk next to Idle's right elbow***

 ***camera pans to show a blue-suit-wearing Baked sitting in a director's chair looking seriously at Idle over the top of Aviator sunglasses, while on his left The Joker is frowning and aiming a still-smoking revolver at Idle and Dragonborn Hermione shakes her head from beneath the Morokei dragon-priest mask on Baked's other side***

 **[LAUGHTER)**

 **Idle: *shaking nervously* err, I-I-I mean…*shuffles index cards quickly amidst continuing laughter, before brightening again* Oh, yes! Sorry about that! Ahem-**

 **.**

 **The BBC and Baked Oven Fresh Stories  
would like to inform the readers of this story that  
the following chapter contains mature subject matter of  
a horrifying and occasionally naughty nature which  
may not be suitable for all audiences.**

 **Reader discretion is strongly advised.**

 **.**

 **Idle: *still smiling*All told, this chapter isn't so bad, actually; anyway, without further ado, a chapter Baked wrote after saying _just last chapter_ he was going to be working on a different sto-!**

 ** _Cha-Twuck!_**

 ***a Dwemer crossbow bolt hits Idle in the forehead, killing him***

 **[CAMERA CUTS OUT WITH APPLAUSE AND LAUGHTER]**

 **.**

 **.**

 **[** **if I'm going to do a warning every chapter, I might as well have fun with it, eh?** **]**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Unforgivable  
By: B.O.F.S.  
[3]**

 **.**

 **.**

 **[3]**

 **.**

 **.**

 **[3]**

 ** _Previously in Unforgivable:_**

 _At midnight, in a valley hidden away in eastern France, lying in a room with his two broken friends, Harry James Potter's one remaining eye opened…._

 _And his cracked, scarred lips curled into a grin. 'I'm **back** …'_

Then his body decided to brutally remind him of what he'd gone through barely five days ago; barbed wire coated his body, there was fire in his lungs, and a crazed doctor was trying to amputate his right leg at the knee with a rusty and dull hacksaw, and doing a piss-poor job of it at that. He was also feeling the aftereffects of a concussion, possibly a compound skull fracture if the rainbows in the edge of his vision were anything to go by, and both his elbows felt like the Weasley Twins had used them for Bludger target practice.

' _Ohh… **owww** … **Anyone get** the number of **that hippogriff**?_' Harry gave a painful, wheezing chuckle at the thought before closing his eye, lying very still, and drawing at his magic to check his hurts.

Now that Harriet and Just Harry were the same person, Harry ( ** _odd. He_** _thought of him(?)self in the masculine, **despite knowing he had it in him to be a girl** …not important **at the** moment, questions **for later**_ ) had access to both their collected knowledge, including memories of his formative years. While he could do without the memories of physical abuse (' ** _why the fuck_** _did he let them **just walk away…** oh, right'_), Harry now could remember how to heal himself without a wand, like he had done countless times in the Cupboard after a nice, relaxing beating.

Reading about human biology at the library, both when he'd first turned into a girl and when he was looking into psychology, was just a bonus; he knew where everything in his body was and how it was put together. Harry could do this…

Letting his magic flow through his body, he began cataloguing the areas which needed the most attention: he had muscular damage throughout his torso, arms, and legs. Easy fixes. His _knee_ …

Well. He'd have a slight limp from now on, but at least it wouldn't feel like Sir Nicholas' executioner was having a go at him. Clustering a fair bit of magic in his knee, Harry placed healing markers at the spots that needed the most attention, added secondary markers that would activate when those were finished to keep the joint from deforming, and drove a fair bit of magic into them. There, he'd be right as rain come morning. Onto his torso…Oh, wait! Most important casualty first!

…

…' _OH THANK GOD! Not that **I mind being a girl** , but that would have been **really awkward** to explain to a healer. 'Ello, lads, **good to see you** made it through! Moving **on** …'_

Main body. Hm. Not much, just muscle damage-oh! His lungs had a little dried blood in them. ' _Been awhile since I had to deal with_ that _…Not **since I was** … **seven. Damn, Vernon, a**_ **cricket bat _? For burning the toast on accident? Excessive much?_** _'_ Harry would have to wait for the rest of his body to heal before forcing those dried bits out; if memory served, doing so hurt _almost_ as much as the Cruciatus. As it was, he _carefully_ removed as much as he could from the more sensitive areas and collected it in the wider passages before corralling them in pockets of air; he'd cough that up when he could find a loo, as he'd _probably_ vomit when he did.

Arms…Lefty was good, the bones were in all the right places; the deep bruising and spots where muscle had torn and been healed would need smoothing out. Harry placed his markers before moving on to the right arm.

Shoulder was fine, minus some inflammation in the joint. Elbow needed a little work; three markers should do the trick…

The fuck was up with his forearm? Something was taking his magic and recycling it back into his body…Head first, then check that out…

Left eye was a lost cause, and- _oof_. The left side of his face, from his eye-socket to his jawline, had heavy spell damage all over. It had already been healed, but the scarring was _horrible_. Good thing Harriet practiced their Metamorph abilities so much; with that, such scarring was purely cosmetic. He'd deal with it when the time came; he needed every ounce of magic at his disposal, for the moment.

Skull seemed to be in good nick, minus the after-effect of a concussion, but that would go away in time…' _whoa…Hermione was **right, my vision's** total and utter _**shite.** _Best take care **of that** **real** q **u** i **c** k…_' and he brought up a mental diagram of how an eye was _supposed_ to look before _very carefully_ placing healing markers here and there throughout his right eye. Once done, he should have 20/20 vision in that eye…hey; why not take care of that right now, so he could examine his surroundings? He shunted magic into the markers…

His lone eye itched for a few seconds before Harry's magic told him the process was complete, ' _Moment of truth…_ ' He opened his eye…

 _Stars_. The ceiling of the room he was in was blanketed by the canvas of night; it caused a sensation in Harry. On one hand, it was familiar enough that he was able to name three constellations on sight, but on the other hand…

It was the first time he'd seen the countless glittering diamonds in person, the billion pinpricks of light interspersed with wisps of stringy cirrus the most beautiful scene he'd ever witnessed. Harry wondered why it was getting blurrier; was his vision reverting? Had he done something wrong with the corrections?

" _Ah…_ " oh. He was crying. Mustering his strength, he stopped himself from sobbing, content to let his tears simply fall in happiness, for he was **finally free** , whole a **nd complete** for the first time in what felt like forever.

For an indeterminable amount of time, he simply lay there enjoying the feeling of breath in his lungs and the sight of the sky; even the lessening grinding pain in his knee was cause for simple _joy_.

Then he heard a _whistle, mewl_ , off to his right. ' _Herm **ione**._'

Gulping to banish the emotions that rose at the thought of his female friend ( **and hopeless crush, apparently** ), he raised his right arm, figuring he should find out what was going on there before checking on his two friends.

His hand was metal. _Literally_. From halfway down his forearm to the tips of his five fingers, it looked like a medieval gauntlet with rounded fingertips, the crest of the House of Black on the wrist. Funny, he thought, he could feel the air parting around it, like his flesh and blood hand was still there…He tried to wiggle the fingers…

 _Clinkikiki…_ Huh.

He had a magical, robotic hand.

…

' _FRIGGIN **SWEET**! THIS **IS** SO **AWESOME**! I love **magic**!_' Grinning hugely, he turned his head to look at his favorite girl…

Her face and arms were covered in bandages, eyes closed in deep sleep, lips slightly opened as she snored quietly, the covers pulled up to her collarbone rising and falling steadily as she _breathed_ , wavy hair (she'd permanently straightened it in fifth year) surrounding her head like a beautiful halo; in Harry's eye she looked _angelic_ , _pure_.

Just like she remembered, standing in her dorm beneath the cloak, **wishing she could touch her, talk to her, tell her _everything_ …**Whoop! His hair was getting longer and silkier. ' _Ah, **leave it**. Looks good._' Better to stop the change there, the ends just below his jawline, at least for now…

Harry sighed; he really _was_ hopeless, when it came to these two…Speaking of which, where was Ron?

 _Snort!_ Oh, there he was, on the other side of Hermione. Good. They all made it. That meant he had work to do; they were with a Healer, that much was certain, but Healers could only do so much. Now, with all his memories in place, he could try his healing talent on his friends.

' _Wow, I'm **an idiot** ; if I'd **let Harriet** out at **the Ministry** …no, don't **think about** that. Focus, **Potter** ,_'

Closing his eye and shunting his roiling emotions to the side, Harry checked on his knee through his magic, as the pain there had lessened to a slight prickle while he checked on Hermione; the worst damage had been reversed, the healing markers now dealing with the more detailed conditioning. Good. He could try walking around.

Shoving his blanket off, Harry sat up slowly, painfully, streaks of stinging fire lancing across his chest and back, reminders of **the** **hallway**. He shook his head, figuring that the pain had more to do with not moving for nearly a week than the damage he'd received; after all, Harry _had_ just healed the worst of it.

Edging to the left of the bed, he braced himself before swinging both legs off, letting them hover above the plush carpet of the room and sitting up; his right knee flared with white-hot pain at the movement, but he gritted his teeth and powered through it, knowing that he wasn't in danger of hurting himself further. Glancing around, he saw a well-appropriated room with two doors, one across from the foot of his bed that presumably led into the building they were in, another set into the wall five feet away from him; a loo, hopefully. There were two dressers, a rather nice desk with a built-in lamp with an open notebook on the surface, and he could see a trunk at the foot of Hermione's bed. On his bedside table was a jug and a filled glass of water; he drank it swiftly, the cool tasteless liquid a balm to his dry throat.

Now, standing…Harry huffed and puffed, grabbing one of the four-poster's pillars with his metal right hand to brace himself.

' _This is going to **suck**._'

He _slowly_ put down his left foot into the soft carpet-

 _And a spear shot up his leg into his thigh._

Pulling his leg back, Harry bit back a scream with all his might; okay, so his legs were a _little_ atrophied. Great. **Fucking fabulous**. Even magic couldn't do anything about that. Breathing deeply through the echoing pain, he wiggled his toes, rotating his ankles and flexing his knees for a few minutes, waiting for the feeling of a million blunt needles stabbing into his muscles to go away.

When it had finally faded, he tried again; instead of a spear, it just felt like he was shoving his leg in a bucket of rusty nails. ' ** _Fuck me_** _, my kingdom **for a** mild pain **potion!**_ '

Oh wait… **duh**! "Dobby?" His voice, even though it was whispered, sounded hoarse; no doubt from **all the screaming he'd done**.

 _Pop!_

Dobby was standing in front of Harry, tennis-ball eyes wide in fear and wonder; but at least he kept his voice down when he spoke, "Harry Potter Sir! Yous should not be getting up!"

Harry smiled sadly, rasping, "Dobby, I have to check on Hermione and Ron, and clear my lungs. Could you please get me a mild pain potion…and a cane, if there's one about?"

Dobby looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but finally sighed, "Dobby will; but, Harry Potter Sir, Missus Dromeda will not like that yous be standings so soon."

"I know," nodded Harry, still smiling; before Dobby could snap his fingers, he called, "Dobby!"

Dobby flinched, "Ye-Yes, Harry Potter?"

" _Thank you_." Harry felt tears in his eye again as he put as much gratefulness as he could into those two whispered words.

The Free Elf stood a little straighter, looking like he might burst into tears himself, before vanishing with another quiet _Pop!_

About a minute later, Harry's legs felt less like they were made of cheap glass and more like…well, _legs_. Dobby had also located a short oak-wood cane topped with a two-inch wide, smooth ruby and trimmed with silver bands. Standing shakily, he shook his head a few times to loosen the cobwebs caused by the pain potion before limping around his bed toward Hermione's, "Where are we, Dobby?"

"We's in Missus Dromeda's house in France, Harry Potter Sir," replied Dobby, keeping his voice down, "Yous have been sleeping for six days. Missy Herminny woke not two days ago, Sir," stopping at the foot of Hermione's bed, Harry looked down at his friend, whose voice had taken on a sad tinge, "She is not speaking clearly, Harry Potter, and Winky feels she is being very sad."

Harry's eyebrows rose, then he lowered the left one, as that had _hurt like **a bitch**_ , "Winky's here?" Dobby nodded, before launching into a squeaky account of what had happened after Harry passed out in Grimmauld Place; once he was done, Harry laughed weakly, "You three…Anything you want Dobby, if I can give it, it's yours," he watched Dobby's eyes widen and the Elf begin to splutter, no doubt to insist that he needed nothing, but Harry went on, "Think about it. Now…could you bring that chair over here, please? I'd like to sit with Hermione for a while." Once done, Dobby bid Harry goodnight before popping away happily.

Harry looked at Hermione's bandaged face for a moment before looking over at Ron; he had to admit, the shock of grey looked quite fetching, and that scar across his face would come out with a few healing sessions. Ron would be back to his unmarred, sexy self in no-

He shook his head, chuckling quietly, ' _Yep, **totally,** absolutely **hopeless** ,_' looking back at Hermione, he was struck by how beautiful she looked… **even though she was, no doubt,** in an incredible amount of physical a **nd mental _pain_**. He reached out a metal finger to stroke her face, feeling wretched at his **failing to keep her safe** , as visions of horrors, both **his/her own and bearing witness to** _her violation_ , flashed before his eyes. Gritting his teeth, Harry forced down the anger and self-loathing that came from his failure.

Then the ruby on his cane, laid across his lap, started glowing.

' _Hm?_ ' he looked at the length of wood and silver in surprise, but the light was already fading. Picking it up in his left hand, caressing the ruby top with his right, he noticed the wood felt like…a _wand_. ' _Maybe this is a staff…Dobby_ did _say they brought everything from Grimmauld, **maybe there's more to the House of Black than Sirius ever figured or deigned to** tell me **…**_ ' He tried running magic through the walking stick, asking for light; the ruby lit up brightly.

' ** _Per_** _fect_ ,' Harry grinned. With this, healing Hermione and Ron would be _much_ easier; glancing quickly at her face to make sure she wouldn't wake anytime soon, Harry held the staff out horizontally a few inches over her feet, running magic down its length and projecting it down into his best female friend's **bloody sexy legs** …

' _Goddamnit, **Harriet** …_' he **really** needed to get that under control… **unless she** was in the **mood to reciprocate** such feelings, **that** is. Forcing his roiling emotions into the back of his mind with Occlumency, Harry focused on Hermione's injuries.

There was damage _everywhere_ , in every muscle and tendon; just going from her feet to her knees took Harry several minutes, throwing down several _dozen_ markers for every few inches. ' _Well…every **bone in her** legs was **shattered, so I** shouldn't be too **surprised**_ ,' Arriving at her knees, Harry had to pause; something was wrong...his markers were working, but they were working _much slower_ than they did when he used them on himself. He'd have to wake her so she could shunt her own magic into them; otherwise it would take _weeks_ to undo all this. Dropping a few larger than usual markers in each knee, he glanced at Hermione's face again, blushing, before moving up her thighs.

Deep bruising, same as his, with more shredded and quickly healed muscle from when her bones shattered; Harry wasn't _too_ surprised by the lack of evidence regarding severed veins or arteries. In his own experience, Harry mused while smoothing away torn muscles and lining up nerve endings, a person's magic would instinctively protect them in cases of extreme damage; in other words, if Hermione had been a Muggle, her Femoral Artery would have been severed early on and she would have bled out in a handful of minutes.

Harry stopped, as he reached the tops of her thighs, to get himself back under control. Just Harry was unused to dealing with emotions as it was, and Harriet's emotions and general personality weren't making it any easier to keep from breaking down in the face of his friend's condition.

' _God, we should **be dead, after all** that…_'

Taking a few steadying breaths, he checked on Hermione; _whistle, mewl_. Smiling sadly, Harry extended the staff over her lower abdomen…

 **Her left ovary was _gone_.**

 **The pitcher of water next to his bed _shattered_**.

 **[3]**

 ** _Sound_** _._

 _Something is happening._

 _I better wake up._

 _Eyes open, but what's that tingle… **down there**._

Hermione looked down, not moving her head; a dark staff with a glowing red orb hovered over her hips. Following it to the person holding it on her left…

 _HARRY!_

 _EEEEE!_

 _MY HARRY'S AWAKE!_

 _Ah, he's finally awake, yes he is!_

 _But…why is he shaking?_

And he _was_ , oh yes; his left hand, holding the staff over her, was white knuckled and quivering slightly. Hermione looked at his face…

 _He's…crying?_

 _No, my Harry!_

 _Don't cry!_

"Hair?" it was a little annoying, Hermione mused, that she couldn't speak in whole words yet; nevertheless, Harry's eye flicked to her face when she rasped. Idly, she wondered how he could see without his glasses even as she smiled sadly at him. And those _scars…_

 _Oh, his poor face…_

"Hermione…" Harry breathed, and it felt _wonderful_ , like a little warmth was kindled in the **black void** that had formed in her after **the hallway** , "You…you _have eyes again_ ," he sounded close to sobbing, which wasn't good at all, because if he started crying then Hermione would start crying, and she didn't want to cry yet, oh no she didn't!

So she thumped a hand and said, " _Hair_. Wha ghaaan…" well, she tried to say, " _Harry._ What's going on?" but apparently her mouth wasn't connected well to her brain.

"Oh! Right, sorry, Dobby said you couldn't speak clearly…ahem," he looked a little embarrassed, Hermione thought, which was weird, but then he asked something even _weirder_ , "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

 _What kind of question is that?!_

She nodded, smiling sadly; he smiled back, which made that **void** seem a little smaller…

And he reached out to her head with his metal hand, "Try not to move, okay?" Hermione felt nervous, but nodded; the tips of those metal fingers touched her temple.

 _They're warm._

 _I thought they'd be cold._

 _But that's fantastic!_

 _And I don't feel **awful** when Harry touches me!_

 _Why does my brain feel warm?_

 _Heeee…fuzzy!_

 **/Shift/**

 _Huh? BWWAHAHGGAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!_

It felt like an electric current shot through her skull, wrapping around a cold spot and filling it with warmth, which made her whole body (save her legs) feel so _very wonderful_ , oh _yes it did.~_

Blinking away the light orgasm she'd just had, she noticed Harry's metal hand had jerked away and he was babbling quietly, "I'm sorry! Oh, Hermione! Are you okay? I didn't mean for that to hurt!"

She coughed, blushing lightly, and said with a smile in her voice, "It…Didn't hurt, Harry…Felt pretty good, actu-…" Hermione's eyes widened, looking in awe at her Harry.

 _I can talk!_

 _Harry made me talk…?_

 _He also made me… **wow** …_

 _No, talking is more important than…that._

She wanted to ask how he did that, but he was rambling already, while _blushing furiously_ , "Err…Well, y-yeah, that happens sometimes too; I mean, there's been a few times where I had a concussion, and getting rid of bruising in your head can _really hurt_ , but other times…well, you just found out what that's like, and it seems like it worked too, but how do you feel?" And he _bit his lip_ while looking at her worriedly.

 _Okayyy…Something's up with my Harry._

 _He healed my head, though, which is good if **strange**._

 _Didn't know he could do that._

 _Questions for later, Harry looks very worried about me, yes he does._

Clearing her throat, Hermione answered him, "Um…Well, my body still hurts a little…and I can't feel my legs…But-But it's so good to see you awake, Harry!" she grinned, and he smirked back, which made the scars on his face do things that **made her sad** , "But oh, your _face_!" Hermione lifted a bandaged hand, but Harry stopped her.

"Its fine, 'Mione, I can take care of that later," he told her, taking her wrist gently and placing it back on the bed, "I'll be okay, promise. So…" he looked a little nervous again, "Um, well I _think_ I can heal your legs, and most of the damage on your body is cosmetic-"

Okay, _now_ she was confused, so she asked mildly, "How do you know that, Harry?"

"Ah, well, um, you see…When I was younger, I found a way to heal myself with magic…I put these things called 'markers', which are just little pins made from magic that I…infuse with intent; think of it like casting a spell, but the spell doesn't activate unless you tell it to. Following me so far?" Hermione nodded, fascinated, and Harry smiled as he went on, "I've got eight in my right knee healing the damage from having it shattered, and there's a couple hundred minor ones in your legs in addition to…twelve? Yeah, there're twelve major ones that'll heal the worst of the damage. I, um, know how to scan and determine the severity of wounds, too, so…" he trailed off, while Hermione became thoughtful.

 _He doesn't seem to want to talk about how he learned how to do this…_

 _But that's okay, my Harry's always been private!_

 _Hmm, maybe it has something to do with his **awful relatives**?_

 _I'll ask, yes I will!_

"The Dursley's hit you a lot, didn't they?" she asked in a monotone.

Harry nodded, looking sickened, which made her feel **ever-so angry**.

But she held back, not wanting to scare her Harry, so she nodded back with a grimace, remarking hoarsely, "Well…at least something good came out of it, Harry," he gave a dry chuckle just as she continued, "So, um…want to finish up before we talk?" it was her turn to bite her lip, because her head healing had felt _so good_ …

"Oh! Uh, yeah, if that's okay?" she nodded, and he lifted up the…walking stick? Staff? Whatever, he held it over her belly, and then the warm, fuzzy feeling returned.

 _Heeee!_

 _Oooh, that feels_ nice!

Harry blushed again, saying, "Could, um, you not say things like that please? I have to concentrate."

And she turned beet red from embarrassment; she felt some small relief from the fact that her bandages hid most of her face.

Harry started commenting in an even, calm tone as he moved the staff slowly up her body, "There's a severed nerve cluster in your pelvis that I think is the reason you can't feel your legs, so I've set a major marker to heal that when you fall asleep, plus a minor marker to keep you from feeling the pain from the nerves reconnecting; trust me, you _don't_ want to be jerked awake while that's happening, it's the closest thing I can imagine to a Cruciatus. Okay…your organs seem fine…" the warm, fuzzy feeling was washing through her insides, _touching her so…very…gently_.

 _If he keeps this up…I'm…ohhhhh!_

"H-Harry, _hold…ah_ ," Hermione gasped, her body going rigid for a moment just as he approached her diaphragm; the fuzzy feeling left her slowly as Harry withdrew his magic.

"Eh, hehe, sorry about that, Hermione," Harry apologized sheepishly, blushing just as hard as she was, "I'm…used to the feeling of the scans, but, well…I've never done this for another person before."

She looked at him through her lashes, smirking coyly as she drawled playfully, "So it's _supposed_ to feel like the best massage _ever_?" Even in the dark of the room, she could see how red he went, and that made her giggle in the afterglow of his 'scan'.

 _Oh my, does my Harry like me?_

 _Hmm, funny, he never really showed much interest before…_

 _Maybe he did, and…and getting hurt made him realize it!_

 _Yes, that must be it, oh yes it must!_

"You, um, can keep going; I'm already starting to feel better, but…" and she gestured to her chest with her right hand, "Um…this area feels pretty sore."

Harry blinked, "Oh. Err, alright," and the staff was extended again.

 _Warm…oooooh, sooo good…yes, yes it issss…_

"Yep, you've got bruising all over your ribs, just under the m-muscle," peeking out of an eye at him, as she'd closed her eyes to enjoy the _blissfully warm feeling_ , she saw Harry blinking his one eye, apparently trying not to think about the fact that his magic was infusing her breasts, "Okay…Markers are, ah, down…Oh, those words are gone!" he'd moved slightly closer to her neck when he spoke with relief; she felt it herself, as she **could remember how awful it had felt, getting those _sick_ _words carved into her chest while they laughed as she screamed_** …

Her bed rattled. She didn't feel so relieved anymore, no, not at all.

"Whoa! Easy, Hermione, they're gone, luv," Harry took her left hand in his, stroking her knuckles to calm her, "They're gone, and **I won't let anyone hurt you again**."

Taking a shuddering breath, Hermione leveled a glare at him before speaking bitterly, " **Don't make promises you can't keep, Potter**."

A tense, ringing silence fell.

Then, Harry _grinned_ , " **I _always_ keep my promises, Hermione, luv; and I promise you, their world will _burn_ for this. No more Death Eaters**," his voice was harsh, but had a happy lilt to it, Harry's one emerald eye glowing in its socket; Hermione was struck speechless with awe as he went on, " **No more Pureblood bigotry, no more Vol-** " Harry paused, jerking back in surprise.

Hermione blinked, "What?"

"Vol-…Huh. Hermione, is it possible to charm a name?" Harry asked her idly, the moment apparently forgotten.

"Um…I _think_ so," Hermione replied, flicking through her mental library of magical knowledge for the appropriate reference, "Yes. Yes, there's something called Taboo, I believe…" realization hit her, making her bang her head against her pillow and _groan_ , "Of **fucking _course_ he'd Taboo his name, the corpse-humping _cunt_**."

"Such raunchy language, Miss Granger," Harry playfully remarked, swinging his staff over her body one last time before laying it back across his lap and grinning at her, "One could almost think you _want_ a detention," and he _chuckled lightly_ , while Hermione just stared in disbelief.

 _He's…flirting with me?_

 _Harry never flirts!_

 _He didn't even flirt with_ Cho, _not that anyone knows of at least!_

 _What's going on here?_

"Harry?"

"Hmmmmm?" He looked at her, wide-eyed and curious-faced.

"Not that I'm not… _very grateful_ , for you healing me, but why didn't you ever tell us about this talent of yours before; also, _you're acting strange_."

Harry looked affronted, "Strange how?"

Hermione blinked before answering in a flippant tone, "Oh, just that you found out your enemy cursed his name and your response was to _flirt with me_!"

"Oh," he blinked a few times, staring into the space above Ron's bed, before looking back at her, a weary look in his eye and a sad smile on his lips, "It's a long story, Hermione."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione told him, gesturing to her legs, "And I'm wide awake, so…"

Harry sighed, getting comfortable in his chair, "Well, I suppose I should start with how I grew up with the Dursley's, but before I begin, I'll have to ask you to save all your questions for the end and _try_ not to interrupt?" Hermione nodded in acquiescence to his request, her curiosity fully peaked.

Clearing his throat, Harry began, "It all started when I was six…"

 **[3]**

Not many among the Knights of Walpurgis knew Lord Voldemort had an office.

Situated on the second floor of Malfoy Manor, overlooking the year-round gardens next to the house, it was where he made most of his decisions, where his private library was kept, and where he would meet with his Inner Circle to brief them on more… _sensitive_ , assignments which could not be discussed in his throne room on the ground floor.

Formerly a spare bedroom, upon entering a visitor would see an expansive dark oak wood desk sitting before wide bay windows framed with drapes of black silk, a high backed red leather chair behind it with a pair of green velvet upholstered armchairs before it; Voldemort's desk was his command center, and usually played host to a rare tome or two that contained magics which could prove valuable to his regime (currently, a pair of books on magical and Muggle means of long distance communication, seeing as the Floo was proving insufficient whenever he wanted to speak to his forces undercover in Italy), alongside the reams of parchment that were reports on everything regarding his empire, from the missions and personnel rosters of his Knights to a report on winter food stores for the Ministry, Hogwarts and Hogsmede.

On the right hand side of the room, a black marble fireplace dominated the middle of the wall, flanked by a well-appropriated liquor cabinet and a magical landscape (Spanish Alps in autumn, his favorite), on the right and left respectively, with two comfortable chairs and an extra-large dog bed for Nagini in front of the crackling grate. The opposite side of the office was his private library, covering the entire wall from the window to the door; not exclusively Dark in their content, he'd managed to recover the books from the cache they'd been placed in by the Lord Nott just after his fall, and were one of his most prized possessions.

Currently, the Dark Lord himself was leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled, watching his Right Hand, Bellatrix Lestrange, seated in one of the armchairs before him as she paged through the revised plan for the Muggleborn Registration Committee, her face blank with concentration.

At his own direction, it had been renamed the Department of Muggleborn Placement and Education, gave it a generous Ministry budget, put an ad in the _Prophet_ for personnel with knowledge of both worlds to staff it, and overhauled its goals completely from what Dolores Umbridge (she reminded Voldemort of a particularly nasty matron from his orphanage days, hence his ordering Lucius to keep her on a short leash) had originally suggested; whereas before it was little more than a bigoted Inquisition of the Muggleborn, it would now see to it that the Ministry would reach out to these ignorant souls and educate them in the ways of the Wizarding World, instructing them on its customs, social structure, currency, and government.

Voldemort watched as his most faithful lieutenant closed the file and narrowed her eyes at the floor in thought, no doubt mulling over all she'd read; idly, he recalled that his dear Bella had been rather busy in the past two days. Just after scattering the last vestiges of the Order, she'd gone to the Ministry in general, and the Department of Mysteries in particular, both all day yesterday and just after lunch today, according to his informants amongst the Knights.

Voldemort had two reasons for such informants: firstly, he could keep an eye on the more powerful members of his forces to ensure their loyalty. To wit, he was rather upset when Rookwood admitted that he'd taken a Vow not to reveal Bellatrix's purpose in his department; on the other hand, he had her in his office right this second, and would ask after her wellbeing once she gave her opinion on the DMPE plan. She _did_ have a slightly better grasp of how a people would react to news, hence her appointment as his Right Hand, the one who worked his will, whether it be slaughter or salvation.

The other reason for such informants? Well, he had to keep up with the rumor mill, didn't he?

As few among the Knights that knew their Lord had an office, an even fewer number knew Voldemort had an incorrigible thirst for the latest gossip.

"My Lord?" Voldemort focused on the Dark Witch sitting on the other side of his desk as she placed the DMPE file on it, crossing her long legs and folding her hands on a knee, pursing her lips before speaking carefully, "The plan for the Department is…sound, and it will hold up to an ICW Inquiry, should such a thing occur. I have some concerns on its reception amongst the mob, but I believe I have an idea on how to ease the people's concerns."

He laced his fingers together and nodded for her to go on, curious.

Returning the nod, she spoke her piece, "Our Muggle Studies class, which we recently extirpated from the Hogwarts curriculum, was considered a _joke_ in the international community; after looking over similar programs in France and the Colonies, I've, and the elder Malfoys agree with me on this, my Lord…we've come to the conclusion that, in addition to the DMPE, our regime would gain considerable influence with those whose support has been… _lacking_ , for want of a better term, if we were to introduce a class to Hogwarts which is similar to the Muggle Studies program currently in place at Salem School, my Lord."

Voldemort's brow rose in surprise, not completely following his most faithful's line of thought; he, like many others, believed she _hated_ Muggles and saw them as many Blood Purists did: animals, barely worth the air in their lungs. So he stated coolly, "Color me surprised, Bella. I didn't think you'd suffer the future of our world to learn the ways of the Mud people…" She…shook her head? ' _Curious indeed…_ '

Her next words, however, struck a chord in him, "When I was still at Hogwarts, my Lord, Lester Buchannan, one of my oldest friends and one of our best curse-breakers, said: 'What you don't know _can_ kill you.' He may have been talking about obscure magics at the time, but the sentiment stands. My Lord, there is much of the Muggle world which we, as wizards, are ignorant; a cursory interrogation of a Muggle police officer I conducted in mid-March, for instance, was…enlightening, in a way. You are, of course, familiar with the idea of firearms," at his nod, she went on in a strained tone, "Well, Muggles have, in the past decade, developed a bullet that is tipped with tungsten to improve penetration through armored targets; my Lord, according to Rookwood, such a bullet fired from a 9mm pistol at a range of thirty yards would rattle my standard Shield Charm. Four in quick succession would break it, and a single such bullet would _pierce dragon-hide like wet parchment_."

Once he got over his disgust at the Muggle's _barbarity_ in creating more and deadlier ways to slaughter each other, he felt he understood his Right Hand's concern, "You feel that there will be open conflict, and that Muggle weapons may come into play," it was not a question.

Bellatrix gave an empty laugh before agreeing, going on, "Yes, my Lord; it is our intention to remove an entire subset of our population from their homes and indoctrinating them in ways that, to them, are archaic and outdated. There will be resistance, and with the eyes of the ICW on us after Dumbledore's death, we must tread _very carefully_ ; additionally, I believe re-introducing Muggle Studies, except with an emphasis on _understanding_ the technology Muggles use in this day and age, would only benefit our cause."

Lord Voldemort was no fool. He understood all too well the advantages that could come from such an endeavor, "I agree with your take on the situation, dear Bella, and it would _indeed_ be to our advantage to introduce this…new Muggle Studies curriculum, perhaps next September; put Knight Tabitha Sikes in charge of this project. Her Half-Blood heritage should give her the insight on how to implement this change, ah, and have your research compiled before delivering it to me for review," her shoulders relaxed _ever-so-slightly_ , the only visible sign of the Dark Witch's relief that open conflict may be avoided; but _now_ … "Another issue I've called you here for, my _most faithful_ , is your recent actions and how they reflect on the Knights as a whole," and he leveled her with an intense gaze, red eyes narrowed over clasped hands, his wand on the desktop on his right.

His Right Hand looked decidedly confused, and it showed in her tone, "M-My Lord?"

"You recent visits to the DoM?" realization dawned on her face, but she averted her eyes and pursed her lips; a lance of _anger_ lanced through Voldemort at the idea his Right Hand was hiding something from him, which showed through as he continued in his high, cold voice, "I would _very much_ like to know what you are doing, my _dear Bellatrix_."

She hesitated but a moment, which was _odd_ in Voldemort's eyes, before she answered in her usual purr, "I apologize, my Lord. I…needed Augustus' expertise and assistance for Miss Lovegood's punishment."

"And the Vow you had him take?" the Dark Lord's voice was low and dangerous; ' ** _If this is some ruse to betray me_** …'

Now her voice was quiet, almost… _regretful_ , "The fewer people who know what I intend, the depths of this plan of mine, my Lord, the better," and then she _looked into his eyes_.

There was silence for a time, save for the ticking of the clock on his desk and the distant laughter of the Young Knights out for an afternoon stroll in the garden after a day spent training in the ballroom.

Voldemort lowered his eyes first, looking at his interlocked fingers, "I…was unaware you desired such things, Bellatrix…"

The woman before him fidgeted briefly, "I-My Lord-" he cut her off with a raised hand.

His tone was even as he spoke, "More than anything, I am… _impressed_ , the lengths that you would go in order to attain your desire. It is positively… _Slytherin_ ," he finished with a grinning hiss, leaning back in his chair to look favorably upon his Right Hand, who smiled waveringly back, "Why, I can honestly say that you'll not likely be discovered, unless of course she speaks of it to someone sympathetic to _Potter_."

"It won't matter, my Lord," Bellatrix stated proudly, "Once this is over…"

Voldemort shook his head, "Tell me no more, my dear…I-" he _had_ been about to wish his most faithful happiness, as was custom in such a situation, when a _firestorm ripped through his being_ ; he managed to pass it off as a headache, rubbing his temple as he dismissed her with a waved hand and a curt, "I wish you only the best, Bellatrix. Take two days to recover, afterward; I will send for you."

Standing and curtseying respectfully, his Right Hand glided from the room, leaving the Dark Lord to his thoughts on the **pain** running through him.

' _It would seem the ritual for my resurrection was insufficient,_ ' thought Voldemort as he stood to look out over the grounds; Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass were walking a perimeter near the edge of the property, Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson speaking closely together just near a domed conservatory, the remaining Young Knights, Flora and Hestia Carrow, Tracy Davis, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode chatting together near a fountain, a few older Knights scattered about enjoying this beautiful August afternoon; Voldemort's thoughts were further afield, however, ' _If I am to lead this regime to the future they deserve, I must be capable of empathy once more; ironic…I once thought of such emotions as weakness, but their absence has proven to be a greater weakness…_ ' He replayed his brief possession of the Potter boy at the Ministry in his mind, just to be sure; yes…if his victory was to be assured, he would have to regain some of his humanity.

Which meant he would have to reintegrate with at least _two_ of his Horcruxes. But which ones?

The locket? No, that was his safest form of…insurance.

The ring? Also no, he'd checked on it just before his resurrection.

The diadem? Hmm…perhaps…yes. And he'd be able to save the artifact from destruction, which would be a boost to his assets in these troubled times.

Nagini was safe with him, so that left the cup. The diary had been destroyed by an unknowing _Potter_ , so the cup would have to do.

And the Fall Solstice was approaching…Voldemort nodded to himself. He would become even more powerful than he already was while removing several weaknesses.

'' ** _The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches_** _''_ Lord Voldemort grinned, ' _We will see about that, Potter._ '

 **[3]**

 _Pain. There was nothing but pain._

 _Everywhere, tearing him apart, over and over again._

 _Screams, he remembered the screams._

 _Hermione's shrill cries._

 _Harry's keening wails._

 _His own shrieks…_

 _Turning him inside-out, ripping his skin from his body._

 _Shredding his muscles and crushing his eyes and grinding his bones to dust._

 _**Agony**._

 _His existence was nothing but pain._

 _…After a while, it was actually kind of boring…_

 _Oh, he was vomiting his digestive system again. For the thirty-seventh time._

 _Meh._

 _As his fingernails turned to steel and ripped through his arms for the fifty-ninth time, he realized something…_

 _The screaming had stopped._

 _But the pain was still there._

 _Well, he mused as his bones were slowly crushed to powder…how unoriginal…That can't be good._

 _Maybe he was in Hel._

 _Weird. He didn't think he'd been **that** much of a git, when he was alive._

 _All in all though…he was kind of disappointed…_

 _He thought Hel would be more fire and brimstone and winged naked ladies stabbing him._

 _Mostly the winged naked ladies though._

 _Not this…just darkness, with only the pain._

 _What a jip._

 _Maybe, he wondered while his ribcage reversed itself for the eighty-third time, he could get a refund._

 _Was there a manager around here?_

 _Not that he could talk at the moment; his tongue was kind of busy burrowing into his sinus cavity. That one didn't happen often. Only the seventh time so far…How novel._

 _Just have to wait for his lungs to stop exploding over and over again as well._

 _He didn't bother counting that one._

 _"_ **HEY RON! TIME FOR BREAKFAST, MATE!** _"_

 _Harry?_

-blink-

And Ron was sitting at the head of the table in the Burrow's kitchen, dressed in an unadorned burgundy turtleneck and work slacks. Whipping his head about, he saw everything in his childhood home was just as he'd last seen it; Ron felt a small wave of relief, he'd thought the Death Eaters-

 _Death Eaters_.

The **hallway**.

Vaguely, he realized the pain was gone. Good, it was really getting boring, and besides finding his friends was more important, given the circumstances.

"Harry?" Ron called; there was no way, _no **way**_ , everything that had happened was just a dream. He looked up the stairs, "Hermione?! MUM? DA? GINNY?"

Silence. Nobody home…

He looked at the window to his home's front yard; light. There was nothing outside but _endless white light_.

"The bloody Hel is goin' on?" grumbled Ron, scratching his head; maybe he was finally getting that manager?

…Nah. Hel doesn't work that way. So…what was up?

The door to the yard snapped open, making Ron jump.

Harry's voice filtered through the light a moment later, "…perceive yourself."

"How I _perceive myself_?" Hermione! She sounded kind of mad… "Look at me, Harry; when have I _ever_ dressed like this?"

"Well, maybe you secretly crave showing off those rockin' legs of yours," replied Harry blithely, as Ron became confused and Hermione's growl came out of the light, "Hey, don't get mad! I know _I_ would, if I had legs like that."

Then Harry walked through the door. Or…someone who _looked_ a lot like Harry.

He was wearing a sleeveless green turtleneck with matching cargo shorts, and dark green trainers on his feet. Harry's hair was longer, reaching halfway down his neck, Ron mused, and he had a slightly amused expression on his face. He also wasn't wearing glasses…Huh. He didn't look half bad, either.

"Hey mate!" greeted 'Harry' warmly, while Ron eyed him suspiciously, "About time we found you," the black haired teenager looked out the door before hissing, " _Hermione._ Get in here!"

"No!" Hermione's voice was high-pitched with embarrassment, "Not until you tell me how to alter my clothes so I don't look like a _slut_!"

'Harry' rolled his eyes, replying, "We _just_ went over this, luv. Your clothing reflects your current mindset; now stop dithering," he reached out the door, grabbing something that went 'EEP!' and yanking it into the kitchen, "and _say hello_!"

As strange as 'Harry' looked, Hermione was…

She was wearing a _very tight_ and low-cut tank top that left _very little_ to Ron's imagination; purple opera gloves covered her arms while her hips were clad in a lacy skirt that ended halfway down her thighs (dimly, Ron knew his mum would probably faint on seeing it), sheer black stockings of the same length running all…the…way…down…her legs to a pair of shin-high heeled leather boots with purple straps.

She was also blushing furiously while Ron checked her out, snapping, " _Harry!_ Err…Hi, Ron. You…um, look nice!"

Ron was lost. Totally, utterly, _lost_. So he just stood there gaping at these two people who looked like his friends but were dressed like…like… _not his friends_.

While Ron's brain went on strike, 'Harry' and 'Hermione' glanced worriedly at each other before 'Harry' spoke, "Err, mate? You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Ron's voice made itself weakly known, " _Are we dead_?"

'Hermione' laughed lightly, which did… _things_ …to her chest that Ron liked, "Of course not, silly! We're in your head, yes we are!"

"In…" Ron's mind stalled for a moment before backfiring, "IN MY HEAD?"

'Harry' nodded, smiling, "Yup. Legilimency, mate," he tilted his head to the side, hair shifting… _weirdly_ , "And a little Occlumency, too; otherwise, we'd be in a miasma of existential _raw pain_. Speaking of which, could I get a cuppa, please, mate?"

Ron blinked. Then blinked again.

Then he leveled his wand at Harry, who immediately threw his hands up while Hermione hissed ' _Ron!_ '

"Prove you're Harry," growled Ron lowly. Something was definitely up here; both Harry and Hermione were acting…really weird; plus, he was pretty sure Harry never wore clothes like the ones he currently had on; Hermione's clothes, on the other hand?

…Meh. She pulled the look off well; definitely not something to wear in public, though.

"Aragog's kids nearly ate us," began Harry calmly with a small, nostalgic smile on his face, "but we got saved by the Ford Angela, which is _probably_ still living in the Forbidden Forest, we flew into the Whomping Willow when we got to Hogwarts that year with the Basilisk."

'Hermione' looked like she might explode when Harry (because it _was_ Harry, as Ron and he had both agreed afterword they would _never_ tell Hermione what _really_ happened in the Forest after she got petrified, _the bloody great **alive** git_) finished, "I'm…I'm sorry, you _did not_ just say what I think-"

"Yep, he did, and all that's true," piped up Ron, now turning his wand on 'Hermione', giving her a cocky grin and raising an eyebrow, "What have you got then, gorgeous?"

'Hermione' blushed, looking between a grinning Ron and a smirking Harry with her mouth open in mortified shock; after a moment of this, she sighed and resignedly said, "At the end of third year in the Hospital Wing, Harry and I went back in time to save Sirius, yes we did…not to mention _ourselves_ from those hundred Dementors you've heard about."

Ron immediately lowered his wand once she'd finished, turned around, and began filling the teakettle up, "So, how are we all in my head, anyway?"

"Well," Harry delicately began, sitting at the table, "I'm _technically_ the one who constructed this place out of your psyche; seeing as you _were_ pretty much catatonic from Cruciatus over-exposure, it wasn't too hard to construct it from my own memories, superimpose it into your subconscious, and order all your thought processes and memories, though I had to use a vocal trigger to get it all to work."

By now, Ron had put the kettle on the stove and was frowning at Harry while Hermione had sat carefully across from their raven-haired friend and was listening to him with an amused expression on her face.

Ron grunted, before asking, "What's all that in English, then?"

Harry blinked before groaning and glancing at a smirking Hermione, "I've been spoiled up till now, haven't I?" At her nod, he turned back to Ron, "You were like Neville's parents, mate. Everything around us is what's called an Occlumency Palace, and it's used as a sort of defense for your mind; I built it while your mind tore itself apart and put itself back together over and over again. When I called you for breakfast, it was a common enough phrase in your memories to make it seem like you were waking up; you ended up here instead, mainly due to our presence in your Palace."

"When the Hel did you turn into Hermione, mate?" scoffed Ron, glad he finally understood what was going on; taking the kettle off the stove at said witch's indignant ' _Hey!_ ', the redhead made three cups of strong tea and gave two to his friends. Taking a sip, he went on, "No, seriously. You're pants at Occlumency. How long have I been out of it?"

Harry… _fidgeted with his teacup_? Hermione answered him, instead, "It's been six days since…the **hallway**." Ron didn't think he'd _ever_ seen Hermione so pissed; looking into her tea, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, her tone was flat and cold, "Harry called Dobby, who saved us with help from Winky and Kreacher. Kreacher stopped them from calling You-Know-Who while Winky and Dobby popped us all to Andromeda Tonks, Auror Tonks' mum, who's a Master Healer," she took a sip of tea while Ron listened intently with a pissed-off expression of his own, "I woke up first…Then Harry woke up and…now we're here, yes we are. Want to explain it to him, Harry?"

Ron turned to Harry, whose hair was hiding his expression but he still spoke in the same flat, cold tone Hermione had, "Really long story short, Ron…When I was eight, I found out I was a Metamorph when my aunt butchered my hair and it grew back overnight; and when I was nine…I got it into my head that my **abusive** relatives wanted a _niece_ instead of a _nephew_ , so…"

And Harry's hair grew another four inches, his _shoulders slimmed along with his waist_ , and his chest grew…and _grew a bit more_ …and his hands thinned a bit, along with his(?) arms.

Ron gaped when Harry looked up to smile sadly at him; his best mate was a _girl_! A…pretty _hot_ girl at that…He glanced at Hermione…

Who was looking at Harry with a look of upmost _care_?

Ron looked back at Harry, asking weakly, "You…turned into a _girl_?" When his best mate (who was now a _smoking hot bird_ ) nodded sadly, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

 _The Dursley's had locked Harry in his room, starved him nearly to death, **for ruining dinner**._

 _THEY._

 _DID._

 ** _NOT._**

Ron's voice was a dangerous, guttural _growl_ , "No that **fat fucking walrus didn't. He _did not_ fucking touch you**."

Harry sighed, taking a long sip of tea before saying in a higher-pitched voice, "He did. And _stop that_ ," _she_ snapped when Ron growled incoherently in rage, "It fucking sucked, but I'm still here, yeah?"

Taking deep, shuddering breaths to calm the **utter fury** flowing through him, Ron asked through gritted teeth, " _Why the bloody buggering **HEL** didn't you say something_, Harry?"

The black-haired girl shrugged, "I couldn't remember it," at Ron's quizzical look he elaborated briefly, "Again, long story short: when... _that_ happened, my mind split in two; on one side was the girl, Harriet, who was everything those fuckers hated…and Just Harry, who was everything I needed to survive that situation. Harriet remembered the abuse, the **hate I felt** , and Just Harry…didn't. It's as simple as that."

The kitchen was silent for a long moment, Ron digesting what Harry had just told him.

Finally, Hermione spoke up, "From what Harry's told me, Ron, we've only seen Harriet _once_ in the entire time we've known Harry: when he yelled at us before fifth year. The only other times she's been in control are when she'd use his body at night, studying in the Library under the Cloak mostly. She hated You-Know-Who as much as our Harry does, yes she did."

"Hm," grunted Ron, looking at Harry ( _was_ it really Harry, though?) appraisingly, "So…which one are you? Harriet or Just Harry?"

"I'm _both_ now," Harry replied, smiling warmly at Ron before rambling lightly, "After the… **hallway** …she'd had enough of him mucking things up, so she recombined with Just Harry, using the psychic trauma we'd just gone through as a trigger and backing it up with a seven-point Runic-"

"Okay, so she was smarter than you, I got it, no need to bloody lecture me," grumped Ron, making Hermione giggle and Harry roll her eyes, "Or you're just as smar-…You know what, it's gonna take a little getting used to, but I think I can accept this 'new you' thing, mate," he finished, nodding before taking another sip of tea as Harry softly said ' _Thanks, Ron…_ '

Hermione blinked at Ron, "That was a bare-as-bones explanation, and _you're okay with all of it_?"

"Yep," nodded Ron, before seeing Hermione's narrowed eyes, "What? He-She-gah! Harry's my best mate, 'Mione."

"Who happens to be a smoking hot seventeen year old girl, Ronald," deadpanned Hermione.

" _Sometimes_ ," whispered Harry, face flushing, "I'm a smoking hot seventeen year old girl _sometimes_."

Ron ignored Harry, "Hermione, you _cannot_ think that I'd be attracted to a girl other than you, especially seeing as this is _Harry_ , my _best mate_ , that you're talking about here."

Harry wisely said nothing to that, just sipping some more tea while watching Hermione's inevitable rebuttal.

After she'd finished spluttering for a moment, Hermione changed tracks with a growled, "Who _also_ happens to be attracted to _both of us_."

Harry managed to turn her head before spitting tea all over the floor to avoid spewing all over the witch across from her; turning a mortified look on Hermione, she gasped, "I-I-I AM _NOT!_ "

Raising an eyebrow, Ron quipped to a now-grinning Hermione, "Methinks she doth protest too much, luv. How do you know that?"

"Because-" "DON'T YOU FUCKIN' DARE!" "Shaddup, _Harriet_ , I wanna hear this." " _RON!_ " "-she's in girl form on top of you _in_ _real life_ and she's flirted with me _six times since she woke up_."

The horrified look on Harry's face as she gazed at Hermione was _priceless_ , Ron decided as he wondered if he should be disgusted, laugh uproariously, or suggest a threesome.

' _What the hell, I'll ask_ ,' "What condition are we in, by the way?" he asked quietly; his two (now female) best friends stiffened a moment before Harry cleared her throat and replied.

"You're pretty much fully healed; nothing some Skele-Grow and Flesh-Knitting potions couldn't handle, but your voice _might_ be a little raspy from now on. You took a Piercing Curse through the neck," she added to Ron's confused look, "just before I mustered the strength to call Dobby. Hermione's going to need help getting around for a couple days, as her legs need to re-adjust after coming out of paralysis. I'm…down my left eye, and I've got a magical prosthetic for a right hand, but other than that I'm fine."

Nodding in sastisfaction, Ron asked his final question: "Alright…Why the hell are we drinking tea in my head?"

They all laughed, slowly at first…and steadily increasing in hysteria until they were all roaring with barely-sane laughter; Hermione giggling, Harry cackling like a hyena and Ron guffawing uncontrollably.

Finally, Hermione choked out, "We-hehehehe…We should be dead!"

Grinning savagely, Harry laughingly added, "Oh-hahaha! I know! That was the _worst_!"

Wiping away a tear, Ron finished, "I-oh, _my sides_ , ha! I…I've didn't think it was possible to be this _furious_ , you two."

"OH! OH! Ron!" Hermione chirped happily, slapping the table to get him to look at her before saying in a sing-song voice, "Guess who we have~?"

Ron stared at his girlfriend's mad, sadistic grin for a long moment, before looking at Harry.

Harry's grin was, if anything, even more bloodthirsty.

Ron slowly realized what they were on about; when he did…

He grinned like a _shark_ , "Oh, please tell me it's that **nasally-voiced piece of _rat shite_**."

Both girls at the table nodded. Once. Still grinning.

" _Wake me the fuck up, girls_."

-blink-

And he was lying in bed, looking up into two wide eyes, one green and one brown.

The green eye moved slowly back, revealing Harry, still in girl form, except she was wearing a black eyepatch and a white t-shirt, the left side of her face scarred up badly; the brown eye jerked back slightly, revealing a baggy-eyed Hermione, her face a little more gaunt than Ron remembered and a faded white vertical scar through the left side of her lips.

"It worked," breathed Harry in awe, voice sounding a little raspy, "We _bloody did it_ …" and she smiled happily, Ron giving a thankful grin of his own in return.

" _Ron!_ " and Hermione kissed him briefly before hugging him tightly about the neck.

Ron wanted to say something, but when he tried his throat **burned** ; he mouthed ' _water_ ' at the two girls practically sitting atop him. Harry quickly filled a glass from a pitcher on Ron's right side while Hermione tilted his head up for him to drink.

Once he'd drained the glass ( _'Has water always tasted this_ amazing _?'_ ), he stated in a gravelly whisper, " _Blimey, but I feel tired_."

Harry laughed, sounding close to happy tears, "Well…You _did_ just use a ton of magic making that whole conversation real," and she swayed in place from where she was kneeled next to Ron's body, "I'm a bit knackered myself, actually; goodnight." Then Harry collapsed right on Ron's shoulder, laying her right hand on his chest, asleep practically before she hit.

" _Oof! Well, alright then,_ " wheezed Ron, shaking his head at the top of Harry's head before smiling over at a silently crying Hermione, " _Guess I'm a pillow tonight_."

Hermione laughed, wiping away her tears before lying on Ron's other shoulder, "We'll deal with that Death Eater in the morning, hon."

Humming an affirmative, Ron kissed her forehead; hesitating only a moment, he also planted one on the head of a gently snoring Harry, " _Love you both_."

"We love you too, Ron, oh yes, we do," whispered Hermione, kissing his jaw, "Goodnight."

" _Night_ ," Ron breathed, before remembering, " _Nox._ "

The bedside lamp switched off, the stars softly glittering over the reunited trio as they drifted into a well-deserved rest.

 **[3]**

That evening, Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed only in her nightclothes with her usually wild hair pinned flat to her head, stood in her and her husband's private lavatory, staring at the three highly illegal potions sitting on the edge of her sink and fighting with her convictions.

' _Can I truly do this?_ ' The question reverberated in her mind, had been doing so ever since Rookwood had placed the four potions in her hand earlier that day; gripping the sides of the sink and staring into the drain, Bella remembered…

February 13th, 1981. The day her life came crashing down.

The day her daughter, Magdalene, had come into the world, taken a breath…and died.

The next day, she'd been told she was barren; the act of birth, combined with her use of Dark magic, rendering her womb infertile.

She had cried for a week, before spending the next few months putting the fear of Death into Magical Britain by torturing or slaughtering every Auror and Hit-Wizard that crossed her path.

Later that year, she'd gone to Azkaban for torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity (not totally true. She'd only used the Cruciatus twice, once on each of them, thirty seconds each, and there'd been no proof she'd done even that, as her wand had been hidden before her capture).

All of that was true, except…the date. Her daughter had been stillborn the previous day, a minor detail, but important to her.

But once she drank one of the potions before her, it would be the truth.

"I can do this," Bella whispered to herself, gripping the sides of the sink tighter, "Oh, _Gods_ , I can do this…" she looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

Dark circles beneath her large, midnight blue eyes; her features were still haughty, beautiful, having regained much of her color and original complexion in the two years since escaping Azkaban. Even so, she looked pale and gaunt in the face of what she was about to do.

" _Are all my lines sand?_ " the Dark Witch whispered to her reflection, which answered.

"If you do this, my dear," her reflection spoke in a caring tone that was so much like and unlike her own, "not only will you have the happiness you've always craved, but you will give that girl the family she's always deserved."

Bella looked back down the drain, growling bitterly, "I would violate her entire past, _all for my own selfishness_."

Her reflection smiled sadly, "Once you drink, it won't be that way. For _either of you_."

Silence. The silence of _resolve_.

Rodolphus, her beloved, had already drunk his own potion. There was no turning back.

But…The girl deserved to know what was about to happen to her.

Even for Bellatrix Lestrange, known sadist, this punishment seemed _too cruel_.

 _But she could do this_. She had the strength to look Luna Lovegood in the eye.

 _And destroy her_.

" _I can do this_ ," Bella sighed, closing her eyes briefly before looking into her reflection once more, frowning in sorrow, "I can do this… _And…That makes me a monster_ ," she nodded to herself, decided, "But that won't matter, will it, once I drink?"

Her reflection nodded, before going back to being just that: her reflection.

Bellatrix turned both the taps hard over, threw up a couple times, and she was ready.

Tucking all three small potions vials into her bodice under her left breast, close to her heart, she closed her nightie and strode back into her and Rod's bedroom, throwing on an overcoat and slipping on house slippers.

Her husband's deep, tired voice came from the bed, "Off to give our angel her last potions, love?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat without a sound, Bellatrix smiled at her Rod's softly smiling face and said in a sweet whisper, "Yes, dear. The last of the memory blocks will get removed with this session, and I'm sure she'll want to spend the night with us after. I'll return shortly, regardless."

Rod nodded sleepily, saying, "Give her my love, Bella," before drifting back off to dreamland.

"I shall," Bella breathed, before sweeping out of the room and into the dark halls of Malfoy Manor before she could question herself again.

Holding her lit wand as she strode briskly through the quiet mansion, Bella kept her expressionless mask in place even while a thousand memories and emotions roiled through her mind; descending to the ground floor, she passed two patrolling Knights working the graveyard shift. She gave them a nod of recognition when they stopped and saluted at the Right Hand's passing.

Too soon, she stood before the door to one of Malfoy Manor's two dungeons; the other set of dungeons were for keeping the rank and file's… _entertainment_. Currently, there were four Muggle women and two young men, nearly boys, if her memory served. The accommodations in that place left something to be desired, but, then, anyone finding themselves held prisoner in that dark hole would be best advised, in Bellatrix's opinion, to abandon all hope; the only way out of _there_ was as a broken corpse. Not so with the dungeon she was about to enter…

Leveling her wand at the doorknob, she sent a staccato burst of magic into it. _Click!_ Only Inner Circle members and specially selected loyal Knights knew the code to the secure, VIP dungeon beneath the manor. Get the code wrong, and the individual would be hit with a wide-area Body-Bind as an alarm summoned the guards. The Dark Lord, of course, didn't need to use the code, as he was the one who'd set this first obstacle, making the door indestructible and impervious to all spells save Fiendfyre.

Opening the door, a freezing blast of stale, rot-scented air slammed into Bella, her gasp of surprise coming in a puff of mist.

The coded lock paled before the second line of defense. Her own contribution.

Voices, both her own and others, sounded in Bella's mind as she descended into the lightless, freezing gloom, closing the door behind her.

 _" **I'm sorry, but you'll never bear child again** …"_

 _" **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**!"_

 _" **MOMMY, STOP! DON'T HURT CISSY** …"_

 _" **You**_ **dare _speak to me in such a manner?_ CRUCIO _!_** _"_

 _" **Monster**!"_

 _" **Demon**!"_

 _"I'll never forgive you… **never** , Bella."_

Bellatrix ignored the voices, focusing all her being on one thing: _Rod_. His strong hands on her shoulders, the smell of his cologne and unique musk, her hands running through his rich, dark hair, his ocean-blue eyes soft, closing as their smiling lips met on their wedding day…

" _Expecto Patronum_."

The tormenting voices vanished like fall leaves caught in a gust of wind, a shimmering panther leaping from Bella's wand with a snarl, its glowing light revealing the next line of defense against intrusion or escape from this place: two Dementors.

Both demons jerked away from the Dark Witch as soon as the final syllable of the Patronus Charm whispered past her lips, the agitated astral panther providing the only light in the hallway; the large cat roared furiously as Bella idly stroked its neck, causing the Dementors to flatten themselves against the wall, attempting to blend into the stonework in a vain attempt to hide from the apex predator in their midst.

Stepping forward, said predator paid them no mind, long strides carrying Bellatrix past the monsters that had tormented her for a decade and a half, her Patronus snarling in warning to the creatures cowering against the walls.

Turning right at an intersection (the other two ways were traps for the unwary, a pit of spikes and a falling ceiling awaiting), she arrived at what appeared to be a dead end with an inch-wide hole in the center of the grey stones. Rather than use her wand, she bared her left arm and held her Master's Mark to the hole; a whisper of air ran over the Mark before the wall melted away, revealing another hallway with a heavy steel-reinforced oak door at the end.

A single guard sat at the table next to it, smoking a cigarette and playing a game of chess with his adder Patronus.

Lester looked up as Bellatrix crossed the threshold with her panther, the wall re-materializing behind her; flashing Bella a grin, he flicked his wand at the door, unlocking it, before greeting his old friend and boss in his Cockney accent, "Evenin', Bella. Olivander's been quiet, just keeps askin' for new books 'ta read; 'Wain's gonna grab 'im some tomorrow. Better than the Weasley girl, hasn't stopped cryin' since Olaf tossed 'er in," he moved a bishop on the board, causing his Patronus to jerk in surprise, "Check."

Smiling down at her old friend, Bella dismissed her Patronus before looking at the door, she inquired, "And how is Miss Lovegood this evening?"

"Doesn't really talk much," shrugged the veteran Knight, glancing briefly at the door before looking back at the Dark Witch, "Just asks for a cuppa every now and again. Bloody weird girl, she is; too calm given the situation, if ya ask me, Bella."

Bellatrix chuckled darkly, "That's not weird at all, Les. You see…her getting captured, Selwyn's death, spitting in my face… _that was all according to plan_."

Lester raised an eyebrow at her words, especially her old nickname for him, only looking down briefly as his adder blocked his check when he asked, "What 'cha mean by tha', luv?"

Bellatrix smirked victoriously at her old friend even as her emotions cried out in horror, "Selwyn failed the Dark Lord that night over Britain three weeks ago, so his fate should be obvious. As to the rest, you remember that I was with child, a daughter, and that I lost her in childbirth? Well," she continued in a clipped voice at her friend and ally's nod, "shortly after my release from Azkaban, Rookwood brought me a copy of a file from the DoM…stating that my daughter was switched with the stillborn Lovegood child and _everyone involved had their memories altered_. We believe Dumbledore may have been involved."

" _Bloody hell_ , Bella," Lester breathed, "And…she knows?" He jerked his head at the door.

Bellatrix nodded curtly, "But, forgive me, that information is only between my daughter, my husband and I."

"No need to explain, luv, I get it; that's your family, there. Blimey…Lil' Maggie…" Lester looked at the door to the VIP dungeon in disbelief before giving Bellatrix a crooked grin, "Well, what're ya waitin' fer, ya old cow? Go get 'er!"

Bella snorted in mirth, whacking her old friend playfully on the shoulder, "See you soon, Les," and she stepped through the door to the final hallway as Lester murmured, " _Checkmate, ol' sport_ ," behind her.

The door clicked shut behind Bellatrix, plunging her into a silence that was at odds with the environment she found herself in.

The walls were a tasteful shade of dark red, matched well by the burgundy carpeting and brass gaslights above each of the heavy cherry wood doors lining the rectangular hallway, with accents in the same wood lining the arched ceiling; each of the doors led to a small yet comfortable studio with a bed, desk, wardrobe and fully-functional lavatory, and sporting a series of charms which kept the occupants from harming themselves in any way.

Only the Dark Lord and his Inner Circle were allowed admittance to any of the rooms; all others had to wait at the doorway, for this was where their most important and valuable prisoners were kept.

Where Potter, Granger and Weasley would no doubt have been kept…but Bella was trying to distract herself, for a small, _annoyingly persistent_ part of her didn't want to go through with this.

She crushed it ruthlessly, swallowing the boulder in her throat and striding slowly to the door directly across from her, at the end of the hallway.

Seven 'cells' were down here, but only three were currently occupied; as she walked, Bella made each door transparent to view the state of her Lord's other two prisoners.

Olivander was asleep, knobby fingers laced over his steadily breathing chest, a book on his bedside table with a torn scrap of parchment used as a bookmark. A part of Bella wondered why the Dark Lord wanted him…Then again, a wand-crafter _was_ an extremely valuable asset to have, Bellatrix supposed.

Checking the room across from his, Bella found Ginevra Weasley curled into a fetal ball as she slept, knees drawn up to her chin and eyelids puffy from crying. Bellatrix scoffed; no one had tortured or even questioned the girl yet. Pathetic.

' _And yet…it's fitting. I_ am _, after all, about to take her best friend away from her, forever…_ ' Bellatrix looked to the final door. With the red carpet and walls, it seemed to lie across an ocean of the reddest _blood_.

Nine steps, each seeming to bear the weight of Atlas to the Dark Witch, brought her to it.

" _Transpara_ ," she incanted in a bare whisper, despite the entire hallway being covered in Silencing Charms to prevent communication between prisoners, the door becoming a window for Bellatrix; Luna Lovegood was sitting in the chair at her desk, facing the door and sipping a cup of tea nonchalantly. It was almost as though she _knew what was coming_ …which was ridiculous; the only thing the girl knew was that she'd be punished for her impudence.

Bellatrix knew the girl wouldn't be so calm when the Dark Witch explained what that punishment entailed.

Tapping the doorknob with her wand, Bella registered her magic in the wards and in doing so, unlocked the door; a record of which Knight entered each room was kept by their Lord, but her meeting with him earlier, along with a series of meetings and social get-togethers over the next week, would stamp out any suspicion as to her true purpose here.

Were he alive today, Slytherin himself would no doubt be proud of her flawlessly conducted machinations.

That, or _disgusted with the depraved **crime** she was about to commit_.

' _Fates, forgive me,_ ' Bellatrix thought, putting on a calm mask and slipping through the door, ' _for I am about to alter your tapestry_.'

 **[3]**

The door clicked shut behind her, locking automatically while the anti-eavesdropping charms fell back into place.

Bellatrix frowned as she looked down at the platinum blonde before her, frozen in place with her cup halfway to her lips, the Dark Witch's wand leveled at her.

Luna let out a sigh after a moment, looking down into her cup before saying in a calm tone, "A panther comes for me. I suppose that means you, Bellatrix Lestrange," she set the teacup on its saucer and placed it on the desk.

"Move to sit on the bed," ordered Bellatrix coldly; once her orders had been obeyed, Bella removed her coat and hung it from the wardrobe cabinet, taking the chair and facing Ms. Lovegood, all while aiming her wand at the girl.

"I'm sure there's no need for you to be so tense, Mrs. Lestrange," Luna stated in an airy voice, sitting on the edge of the double bed with her hands folded in her lap, "I am, after all, at your mercy."

Bellatrix said nothing, at first, simply staring at the softly smiling girl until that smile began to falter before speaking, "I have known a fair few Ravenclaws in my time, Ms. Lovegood, but not a single one would have been _stupid enough_ to spit in the face of the most powerful witch in Western Europe."

"Perhaps not," Luna admitted thoughtfully, "but I imagine it's what Harry would have done, were our situations reversed."

An almost ringing silence fell between them.

"And what do you know," Bella asked softly, "of Mr. Potter's current condition, Ms. Lovegood?"

"I know you can't find him," the girl chirped, a small smile touching her lips again, "But he'll find you, I'm sure, once he hears that you have Ginny-"

"Then little Potter will come running to the rescue-I'm sorry, I meant running to his death or capture," deadpanned the Dark Witch, "Seeing as not only would he have to get through all the defenses the Dark Lord, Augustus Rookwood, and _myself_ put in place about this compound…but he'll have to do so with one _eye_ ," Luna flinched as Bella's turned her tone mild and began listing off Potter's injuries, "one _hand_ , and a mutilated _leg_. You see, Luna, the evening of William Weasley's wedding saw your _precious savior_ being _tortured_ , against orders to the contrary at that, to within an _inch of his life_ along with his blood-traitor friend Ronald Weasley, while both were forced to watch the _fifteen perpetrators of this **deplorable** **crime** gang-rape Hermione Granger_…before mutilating her beyond recognition. _No_ , Luna," Bellatrix said softly, shaking her head at the stone-faced and silently weeping young woman, "Harry will not be coming to save _anyone_ any time soon."

Tears streamed down the Luna's face as she asked in a quavering whisper, "How can you be so cruel and call yourself human?"

More silence, Bellatrix hanging her head and placing her wand on the desktop before reaching for her bodice's cleavage.

Three small vials came up into her hand. One was filled with a clear, brown potion; the other two were identical save for their labels, 'M' and 'B'. Both were filled with a glowing blue-white substance that almost seemed to be _fabric_ rather than _liquid_.

The penalty for making either of these potions without an ICW permit: execution.

Bella placed the brown and 'M' vial closer to Luna, who eyed them both with fear. The Dark Witch placed the 'B' vial next to her wand, picking the length of wood up and laying it in her lap, pointed in Luna's general direction.

The blonde eyed the two vials near her for a long moment before calmly asking, "My punishment, I take it?"

Bellatrix nodded, adding in a breathless tone strained by her warring emotions, "Would you…like me to explain it to you, Luna? Or would you prefer to dive in blind?"

Luna looked into her eyes, teary grey meeting sad indigo, "P-Please explain…Mrs. Lestrange…what you're about to do to me."

Taking a shuddering breath, Bella did just that, "The day before you were born, I gave birth to a daughter, the only child I ever carried to term. Her name was Magdalene…Maggie Lestrange," a pause, as Bella ordered her thoughts and took another deep breath to steel herself, "She was stillborn. I was so overcome with grief, I…gave into the bloodlust that was instilled in me at a young age by my cruel bitch of a mother, may she rot in Hel. That…that _was_ the truth, Luna, until yesterday evening…when I went to your house and placed a warded box of letters from myself beneath your bed," Bella felt some mild satisfaction at the girl's horrified look.

"You see, Luna Lovegood, your mother died trying to find a spell to get past the blood protections your _true father_ , Rodolphus Lestrange, placed on you when you were born to keep you safe from mental modification not done by him or myself…though your appearance was changed by an Alchemical blood potion, possibly administered by Dumbledore."

"N-No, my mama-"

" _Silencio_. Please, Luna dear, let me finish," purred Bellatrix in a softly chiding tone, said girl beginning to breathe very fast as the Dark Witch went on, "You remembered, always, each time your drunk parents _struck you_ , but that _paled_ to the _insult_ , hurled by your mother in a drunken stupor, that stuck with you for your _whole life_ : _'filthy spawn of that Lestrange demon-whore_ '…When you got to Hogwarts, it took you until your third year, amidst the hullabaloo of the Triwizard, to sneak into the place in the Library where they keep back-issues of the _Prophet_ …and that's where you found Magdalene's death notice… _right alongside the announcement of your birth_ ," Bella paused to allow her words to sink in while Luna merely gaped in shocked terror.

"All the while, you pretended to be a mad hatter just like your father, playing at being the perfect daughter to him while putting on a timid yet kind front to all others. When I escaped, you were filled with _hope_ , hope that you would finally meet your true parents and find somewhere you felt you _truly belonged_ : as heir to the most powerful witch since Morgana. We met briefly, in the Ministry, where you told me of your plan: you would get as close to Dumbledore's Order and Potter as possible while we corresponded through Patronus-delivered letters and, when the time came, you'd make sure you'd be captured in such a way that we would have complete privacy…so that…I could administer the potions that would remove the memory blocks…I installed at a secret meeting in Diagon Alley last year…to prevent anyone from discovering your betrayal, perceived or otherwise…and reverse the effects of the blood potion given to you the day after your birth."

And Bella _began to clap_ , slowly, face completely blank as the young woman in front of her finally showed her the look she'd been wanting since dueling her two nights ago.

 _Rage_.

Bellatrix stopped clapping suddenly, before continuing in a tired, broken-sounding tone, "Likewise, Rodolphus and I have to take potions to remove our own memory blocks, as it would have been _unwise_ to tell anyone else about this plot…but you'll remember all those details in a moment, won't you Magdalene?" And she lifted the Silencing Charm from Luna, who now looked both wrathful and terrified.

" _You're lying_ ," seethed Luna through her shaking breaths and tears, " _My mama loved me very much, and nothing you ever do to me will change that_."

"I-I know…Everything I've just said is a lie," Bella's voice finally broke, as she went on in a grievous voice, tears beginning to run down her face, "But in a moment, Luna… _everything I just told you will come true_. There is already paperwork at the Ministry proving the story of the switched infants. There are letters in my bedside table, written in _your_ handwriting that match up to the letters hidden in your home. _No one_ will question my word, given my station. All that is left…are…are… _our memories_ ," finishing in a weak whisper, Bellatrix Lestrange let out a small sob before she could stifle it.

Luna Lovegood stared at her in tearstained disbelief for a long moment, "You're going to turn me into your daughter…make me betray _all my precious friends_ …take the Dark Mark… _destroy my past…erase me…_ " at each statement, Bella gave her a shaky nod.

"… _You really are a monster, Bellatrix Lestrange_."

The Dark Witch nodded again, looking into Luna's icy cold gaze, "I know. You won't remember this conversation either… _neither of us will_ …"

"I won't do this willingly."

Bella took a shuddering breath, aiming her wand at Luna's teary-eyed face, "… _I know_."

And Luna Lovegood _spat in Bellatrix Lestrange's face again_ , before growling, " _Burn in Hel_."

Bella didn't even flinch, merely saying, "Thank you, Miss Lovegood. _Imperio_."

Luna's eyes glazed over as the curse took hold; standing like a puppet on strings, she moved to sit on a crying Bellatrix's lap.

Bella sobbed piteously as she made the blonde girl reach out and take the brown vial, uncork it, and down it in one go.

A beat, then…

" _Ah!_ " Luna hunched forward as she grew an inch taller, her shoulders and hips widening and muscles thickening around her growing bones whilst her bust increased to a size closer to Bella's own; her features became slowly more aristocratic, a blend of Bellatrix and Rodolphus, while black flowed like a wave from her scalp, her hair color matching Bella's but taking on the wavy-ness of Rod's, Bellatrix noticed through her tears.

All though the change, Bellatrix cried, but never looked away.

Finally, Luna looked up, moving a wavy curtain of hair from her face and looking at Bella with sky-blue eyes; in Bella's mind, she looked like her, her _own daughter_.

" _So beautiful…M-My Maggie_ ," Bellatrix whispered, reaching up to stroke Luna's face with a finger.

Bella made her smile happily. It was almost like looking into a mirror. She laughed in mingled relief and bitterness.

A tear ran down Luna's still smiling face.

Picking up the two remaining vials, Bellatrix arranged Luna's body on the bed so they were both lying on it, facing one another.

Bella uncorked her vial.

She made Luna uncork hers.

Silence, then…

"To a shining future, Luna Lovegood," toasted Bellatrix bitterly before having Luna drink all her potion before releasing the Imperius, then drinking her own.

 **It tasted like _fire._**

 **[3]**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"She-She's_ alive? _"_**

 ** _"Yes, Bella. Your daughter lives…"_**

 ** _"Rod. Our…our baby._**

 ** _"I know, love. We'll find her."_**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"You're my mother, aren't you?"_**

 ** _"…Maggie?"_**

 ** _"Shh, mama. We have to do this carefully, if we're to be together."_**

 ** _"…You have something in mind."_**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"Hi mama! You were right! The memory block stays in place unless I'm looking at the panther you drew!"_**

 ** _"Dearest Maggie, The rabbit you drew works as well. Now, my daughter, let us plot…"_**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"It's so hard, mama, pretending to be their friend. But if it means we can be together someday…"_**

 ** _"I know, my love. Wearing the mask is never easy, believe me; but one day you won't have to wear it anymore…"_**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"Mama, I'm going into hiding with the Order. I'm not sure where we'll end up, but I'm sure you'll find us, you're so smart. When you do…_ "**

 **" _She'll be there, Rod."_**

 ** _"We'll all be there, my love."_**

 ** _…_**

 ** _"This one will remove the blocks permanently, darling."_**

 ** _"Good. I'm tired of pretending all the time, and I can't wait to meet everyone!"_**

 ** _*laughing* "Cheers, darling."_**

 ** _"See you in a minute, mama!"_**

 ** _…_**

 **[3]**

"Mama! Mama, it worked!"

Bella awoke slowly, as though from a deep sleep, to find her Maggie sitting on top of her with an excited grin on her face; returning it readily while placing her hands on her daughter's shoulders, Bellatrix quipped, "Well, of course it did sweetie! We are, after all," the two exchanged matching smug looks, "the two smartest witches in Britain."

Magdalene Lestrange sighed then, tears filling her eyes, "Mama…I, I waited _so long_ ," she fell onto her mother, wrapping her arms around her neck as she cried in happiness, sniffing, "I'm finally back…"

Bellatrix kissed her daughter on the temple, tears of happiness in her own eyes as she hugged Maggie fiercely, "Yes, you're finally back where you belong, my dearest. I'm so proud, you did _so well_."

" _You_ did amazing too, mama," Maggie gasped then, before pulling back to look at her mama excitedly, "Is papa awake? He said he'd be awake for this!"

Bellatrix laughed easily for the first time in what felt like forever, before whispering conspiratorially, "He's had a long day, love, so I don't think so, but let's go wake him up, hmm?"

At her daughter's happy nod, Bella got them both to their feet; seeing the three vials, Maggie gathered them up and tossed them all in the bin. A burp that made the two Lestrange girls giggle later, a grinning Bella threw on her cloak, opened the door to the apartment and led her laughing daughter through the prison toward freedom.

Introduced her to Lester, who looked uncommonly teary-eyed as he kissed a giggling Maggie's hand in greeting before returning her wand.

Held her close at her side as they passed the Dementors, her panther striding proudly before them with Magdalene's rabbit on his head.

Leapt with her onto Rod, surprising the poor man right out of sleep.

Laughing louder and freer than she had in years during the resulting tickling skirmish that preceded the epic pillow battle which would no doubt go down in history as the greatest battle ever fought, as Maggie narrowly defeated both her parents once wands came into play (but of course, they let her win out of love).

Kissed her Magdalene on the forehead as the teenage girl fell asleep between her true parents for the first time in her life.

Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange mused as she drifted off to Morpheus' realm in the warm company of her family, everything was going to be fine.

 **[3]**

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 **A/N:**

 **NO ERIC IDLES WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER  
ALL STUNTS WERE PERFORMED BY BANDITS  
EXCEPT LUNA. THAT WAS REAL.**

 **Baked: Supposed to be writing 'A Witch's Tale'  
Also Baked: Writes over 15K words for this story in a week instead  
**

 **Okay, having said that-**

 **DID I _SERIOUSLY_ JUST WRITE THIS?!**

 ***sanity check***

 **Yep. I totally wrote this.**

 ***slams head into his fabulous light-up keyboard and _cries like Bella just did_ ***

 **I am… _so sorry_ …if this chapter was hard to follow. I have no beta.**

 **At this point, the story pretty much feels like it's writing itself. It's almost like each chapter is an episode of a miniseries, in my mind.**

 **Also, I may as well say it now: I'm not going to update 'A Witch's Tale' until this bloody muse leaves me alone.**

 ***tiny yellow fairy pokes Baked with an equally tiny bident***

 **I've killed it three times, but it keeps coming back.**

 **Thanks for reading, remember to review!**

 ***door gets kicked open***

 **GRAHAM CHAPMAN: *dressed as police officer* All right, break it up! You're all under arrest!**

 **THE JOKER: *eating cup ramen* What?**

 **ERIC IDLE: *with a fake crossbow bolt in his head* What for?**

 **CHAPMAN: For making silly jokes in a serious fanfic, being generally belligerent, and recycling terrible Monty Python sketches without a license! *to the audience* Right, get on with it!** _Get on with it!_

 **~Baked**


	5. 4

***Gunfire rattles throughout a desert town, along with cries to catch "that red-cloaked asshole!"***

 ***a tall and extremely attractive blond man with sky-blue eyes wearing a highly fashionable red trench-coat stops behind a donut shop, catching his breath***

 **Vash The Stampede: Whew! Seriously, you'd think they'd give up after the first two hours. *notices readers* Oh! Hi there! I'm Vash, and I'll be doing the chapter warning! Ahem-**

 **The Bernardelli Insurance Company  
and their customer, Baked,  
would like to remind readers that they are liable  
for any emotive responses that are triggered  
by reading this chapter; as such, you will be reimbursed with  
digital donuts and comforting shoulder pats  
should you be offended by anything you read in the following chapter.  
Proceed at your own risk.  
(Our insurance company is not liable for any loss of sanity resulting from reading this story.)**

 **Vash: Now that that's out of the way, I gotta-**

 **Angry Townsperson: THERE HE IS!**

 **Vash: RUNNN! *speeds off into the distance amidst a hail of bullets and explosives***

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 ** _Previously in Unforgivable:_**

 _''_ **The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches** _'' Lord Voldemort grinned, '_ We will see about that, Potter _.'_

 **.**

 _Hermione laughed, wiping away her tears before lying on Ron's other shoulder, "We'll deal with that Death Eater in the morning, hon."_

.

 _Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange mused as she drifted off to Morpheus' realm in the warm company of her family, everything was going to be fine._

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 **Unforgivable  
By B.O.F.S.  
[4]**

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For Pansy Parkinson, the seventh day after the Donovan Incident started like every other day this summer: waking up covered in lingering muscle aches from dueling practice.

At the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts (and hadn't _that_ just been an all-around awful year), her Lord had decreed all the Young Knights of Walpurgis spend the summer at Malfoy Manor to undergo 'specialization training'. ' _Finally_ ,' Pansy had thought excitedly at the time, ' _we're going to learn how to put those Mudbloods in their place_.'

The reality was… not what she expected.

For instance, Pansy didn't expect being put on a dietary regimen of only select foods and potions supplements, having a strictly enforced physical exercise schedule, and required reading that they would be _tested on_! It was almost like being in a more efficiently-run Hogwarts where she was actually _learning_ things; she could do without all the soreness, though. Good thing Flora and Daphne were here, those girls _really_ knew how to give a massage, probably due to their… _assets_.

Groaning and shaking her head to dismiss the jealous thoughts, Pansy sat up and dragged herself to her private loo, fixing her red lace knickers as she went; as it was the beginning of August, nights in the Manor were still too warm for full pajamas, at least for her, so she made it _very clear_ to the boys in their group on day one to knock before entering her room, especially in the morning.

Only Vinnie had made the mistake of doing so; he'd spent two days in the Manor infirmary as a result.

Another thing she didn't expect was their assignment to personal mentors; Draco and Blaise were the only exceptions, but for different reasons. Draco had been taken under the wing of Professor Snape from the moment he'd gotten home, and had only started doing field work again recently; personally, Pansy was of the opinion that the little _gobshite_ should be chained to a potions workstation and only allowed out to breed. Some of these boys were only good for one thing, two at best.

Blaise and Theo (she gave a dreamy sigh at the thought of her new boyfriend as she showered, particularly the conversation they'd had near the conservatory yesterday where he confessed his intention to court her, vilifying her affections) were cut from a different cloth, in her eyes. Theo, at first glance, was as plain and unassuming as a person could be; he was quiet, reserved, and had a constant frown beneath his slightly upturned nose. But Pansy had seen the _real_ Theo: he was passionate, loyal, and _really smart_! Not _Granger_ smart, the bloody swot, or as smart as her or Blaise, but it was there; that there was a good bit of muscle under those robes to go with his straw-blonde hair was only a plus in Pansy's opinion. And in a duel… _oh she could watch him fight all day_.

Pansy let out another soft sigh as she thought back to her snog with Theo before the Prewitt Op; he was a damn good kisser too!

Blaise was… well, he was the guy all the girls wanted to be with, save Pansy and Daph. They weren't stupid. Blaise was a lady-killer, all good looks and suave personality; he could (and _had_ , at that!) pick any girl between fifth and seventh year, get them in a broom cupboard or abandoned classroom, and… well, Pansy hadn't fallen for his charms, but she'd heard from Flora that he was pretty good with his tongue for things other than talking. He was also probably the most intelligent of the Young Knights, having taken the three hardest electives (Care, Runes, _and_ Arithmancy), gotten near-perfect scores on all his OWL's, _and_ had diplomat and advanced dueling training from his mother, Italy's ICW-appointed ambassador to Magical Britain.

He was currently in Italy on an assignment from their Lord. Pansy didn't know much about it, other than it had something to do with the old families in that region, and that she missed the dark-skinned boy; as she dried off from her shower and limbered up for her morning exercises, Pansy realized how boring conversation amongst the Young Knights had gotten since he left. There wasn't much room for Daphne and Tracy's usual bickering that was such a source of entertainment at Hogwarts, and there were only so many pranks Millie and the Carrow girls could get away with under the collective noses of their mentors.

 _Especially_ Pansy's mentor.

Bellatrix Lestrange. The Right Hand of Lord Voldemort and the most powerful witch in Europe.

As the young Parkinson Heiress knocked out a set of thirty presses (up from the pitiful set of _ten_ she was capable of preforming on her arrival here), she thought about her mentor, her Master, the woman who taught her how to be a _warrior_.

The woman was at once _beautiful_ and _frightening_ ; even when they were first introduced, Pansy had been intimidated by the Dark Witch before they'd even exchanged greetings. From her wild ebony hair, to her lidded, calculating gaze, to her mature, slender frame, to the way she didn't so much walk as _stalk_ , like a manticore on the prowl and just as dangerous, everything about Lady Bellatrix _screamed_ power, along with violence, beauty, and _purpose_.

Pansy wanted to be just like her, so confident and untouchable; she wanted the respect and awe Bellatrix commanded from the moment she entered a room.

At the same time, the young woman feared her master in the same way the rabbit fears the hawk: paralyzing, spine-chilling, primal _fear_.

After a two-week orientation, where the Young Knights were instructed on the rules, regulations, command structure and security measures of the Knights of Walpurgis, Pansy's Master had put her through the ringer. _Every single_ _day_ for the past two months, Bellatrix Lestrange pushed Pansy to be better with a wand, both in combat and out of it, as well as how to think on her feet, run faster, be stronger, and how to deal with one's problems decisively as well as ruthlessly; and Pansy had given it her all, wanting _more than anything_ to gain the recognition and respect of this most powerful and devious witch.

As she gripped a bar above her four-poster and got her twenty pull-ups out of the way, Pansy figured she'd at _least_ gotten the Right Hand to regard her as a worthy apprentice; right now, though, she needed to work on how she addressed her fellow Young Knights. Pansy had allowed her progress to go to her head, and it had resulted in her Master punishing her ( _shudder_ ) in the middle of an Op, and an extremely _important_ Op at that!

' _Well,_ ' thought Pansy as she siphoned the sweat from her body, Vanishing it, and throwing on a blue-grey jumper with matching skirt, choosing dark-green knee-stockings to go with her utilitarian boots, ' _I've been working on it; Flora and Hestia like me, as does Millie, and there's Theo~; too bad Blaise isn't here… now I just have to get Daph, Trace and,_ ugh _, Draco back on my side. Today should help with that… and it's a good thing I've gotten that rehearsal out of the way; maybe Master Bellatrix will let us go to Hogsmede today, like Millie said we might_.' Yes, the Slytherin witch nodded to herself, a day of relaxation was _definitely_ in order.

Only stopping to check her appearance in a full-body-length mirror (' _Perfect_.'), Pansy strode out into the Manor, making for her Master's private suite, which was closer to the Lord's quarters in the center of the mansion.

The Young Knights stayed in the West Wing, where the Library and Ballroom (which was mostly used for dueling practice and running simulations of combat situations in various environments) were situated, along with a large drawing room which Pansy and her peers used as a recreation and study room; it was almost like being back at Hogwarts, except with no bloody annoying Gryffs!

The East Wing had been repurposed as a barracks for the more rank-and-file Knights; most of their forces were out on assignments throughout Britain and the continent at the moment, so the Manor was blissfully quiet on this misty morning.

It was rather early, Pansy mused as she approached the Inner Circle's apartments, which explained why everyone was still asleep; then again, it _was_ Sunday.

The silence, though… it grated on Pansy, reminded her of… _Grimmauld Place_.

She shuddered, taking a breath to steady herself; seeing what Donovan's Knights had done to those three had given her nightmares. A part of her had found that odd, after all she'd seen and done: killing that nameless Muggle in cold blood on the night she took her Lord's Mark, slaughtering the Dagworth-Grangers with only her Master at her side… _and_ that one time Bellatrix and Walden had gathered the Young Knights in an open field before setting a _bloody juvenile Nundu on them_ (to test and improve their combat effectiveness and problem solving skills, according to the Inner Circle, but Pansy thought their teachers were just bored and sadistic)!

None of those things had made her lose sleep; no, it had been seeing Granger broken on the ground, Potter and Weasley reaching desperately for her despite being broken as well, that had forced Pansy to start taking a light dose of Dreamless Sleep to get her through the night.

Pansy didn't get it. She _hated_ Granger, the Mudblood swot, and while Potter _was_ rather dishy, that didn't mean she would have ever pursued him or even desired to associate with him, and Weasley was just… _ugh_. It was like the tall, well-muscled redhead had never even _heard_ of table manners! Why would she care if they got torn apart for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?! They weren't even on the same side!

' _Maybe I'll talk to Trace about it after breakfast; she's good with emotions like that_ ,' nodded Pansy as she approached the hallway her Master's apartment was located. Getting closer to the final turn, she could hear a repetitive _crack-crack-crack_ sound that was rather familiar.

Maybe Master Bellatrix and Lord Rodolphus were playing Reflect, Pansy mused as she slowed her pace; a game that Flora and Hestia had made up after Saturnalia this past year, it involved one person casting a Stinging Hex and then both people reflecting it back and forth. Theo's Master, Antonin, had repurposed it into a training exercise not long after hearing about it, except using Stunners or weak Bludgeoners, to work on the Young Knight's footwork and reaction time.

Realizing that Bellatrix and Rodolphus would probably use something a _little_ deadlier (being close in skill, they usually used a Cutter or Piercer) for their game, Pansy edged up to the corner of the hallway, before cautiously leaning her head out to see how things were going.

 _And nearly got her head ripped off by a Reductor Curse_.

As it was, Pansy's reflexes were better than they'd ever been, so she was able to jerk back before being killed; combat instincts kicking in, she threw up her left arm to shield her face from debris while flicking her wand into her hand from her wrist-holster. ' _It's too early for this shite!_ ' Diving out of cover as the curse blasted a hole in a column, visions of an Order raid ripping across her thoughts, she rolled to a knee and brought up her wand with a Cutting Ribbon Curse at the front of her mind-

"Oh, my! Sorry about that, Pansy dear!" Bellatrix called laughingly from the other side of the hallway, "I put a little too much spin on that last deflection, it seems."

Pansy let out a long sigh as she forced her magic back down, lowering her wand and slowly rising. She was about to reprimand her Master for using something that deadly _indoors_ when she noticed Bellatrix's partner.

It wasn't Lord Rodolphus, like she'd expected, but a girl around Pansy's age. Her wavy ebony hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell to the middle of her back, a single bang framing the left side of her face; _her face_ , which had the same strong jaw and cheekbones of Bellatrix, with the brow, nose and lips of Lord Rodolphus! She was a slender beauty, dressed in a blue and black sleeveless corset dress with knee-high heeled boots that were similar to what Bellatrix usually wore, and was panting lightly from the game of Reflect.

Pansy didn't recognize her, which only added to her confusion in regards to ' _when did Lady Bella and Lord Rodolphus have a daughter?_ '; when the mystery girl spoke, after catching her breath, it was in a light, husky burr, "I'm _really_ sorry about that, it went a little too wide for me to catch."

Remembering her manners, Pansy replied before the girl or her Master noticed her gawking, "I… I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The pretty girl _giggled_ , which would have set Pansy's temper off were it not for the satisfied, feral grin stretching across her Master's face as she approached the girl's side.

Then the girl spoke again, in a _very familiar_ dreamy tone, "Why Pansy, I do believe you've come down with a sudden case of Wrackspurts- _pfft! HAHAHAHA! The look on your_ face _, oh Morgana, that's_ priceless _!_ " And she continued cackling, Pansy's Master joining her with a demure chuckle.

Pansy gaped, totally and utterly _gobsmacked_ at what was happening before her, "You're… _Lovegood_?! _Luna Lovegood?!_ "

"Don't gape, my dear apprentice, you'll get wrinkles," Bellatrix Lestrange drawled playfully from her spot next to the laughing girl who, in Pansy's mind, could easily pass for the Dark Witch's daughter, "And _Magdalene_ , don't tease Pansy, the poor girl hasn't had her coffee yet," the newly named girl ducked her head, giving a sheepish grin and a murmured ' _sorry_ ' to the Young Knight.

To a blinking and still quite befuddled Pansy, Bellatrix gave a brief explanation of what the Parkinson Heiress was seeing, "Pansy, the person you knew as Luna Lovegood wasn't who she appeared to be, in any sense of the phrase; in truth, the _actual_ Lovegood daughter was stillborn, but due to a plot hatched by Albus Dumbledore to deny me an Heir, that corpse was switched with the young woman before you," the Right Hand smiled down at the blue-eyed girl next to her, who was watching Pansy with an anxious yet calculating gaze, "my daughter, Magdalene Lestrange."

"But you can call me Maggie, if you like," said young woman addressed Pansy in that same light burr she'd first used, adding hopefully, "I, um, really hope we can be friends."

' _Master Bella's right. I need coffee before I can fully process this_ ,' shaking her head to clear the confusion she was feeling, Pansy once again remembered her manners and replied hesitantly, caught off guard as she was, "Well, ah, it's… nice to meet you, finally," she glanced at her Master, who was looking at her apartment door with a frown, before smiling slightly and approaching 'Maggie' slowly, "Though I think we've crossed paths before, haven't we? No hard feelings, I hope?"

The dark-haired girl shook her head, grinning smugly, "I had a part to play, and I had to be _very_ convincing, if I was to get close to Potter and the Order," a quiet growl echoed through the hall; both girls giggled embarrassedly at their stomach's protests over the coming elucidation, "Maybe I can give you a more detailed explanation over breakfast?"

Pansy smirked at the girl, "Sounds like a plan," then to Bellatrix, "We'll go on ahead, Master."

The door to the apartment opened then, Lord Rodolphus exiting and straightening his robes; Bellatrix waved them on, "You girls go ahead, Rod and I will be right behind you after we fix the wall."

Maggie giggled, bouncily striding over to a bemused Pansy, who began leading the new girl to the nearby dining hall.

And if Pansy noticed that her new companion walked like Master Bellatrix, she said nothing, simply happy to have another (apparently highly intelligent) friend to talk to.

 **[4]**

Daphne glanced over at a half-asleep Draco, sitting next to her, and suppressed a frustrated sigh.

She'd woken the Malfoy Heir so they could go over the DMPE report before tomorrow's Wizengamot meeting, where they would be providing security for Minister Thicknesse; she figured the meeting might turn into a madhouse once the full ramifications of the proposal were read, so they should go over the proposal over breakfast to find the spot where the assembly would be most likely to riot.

Right now, however, the Greengrass Heiress was kicking herself for thinking this was a good idea.

Of all the Young Knights, she just _had_ to get paired with Draco Malfoy, the world's worst morning person.

Here she was, tucking into a full English breakfast with the proposal resting unopened between them, Draco's parents further up the table discussing the very topic Daphne wanted to go over with the wizard next to her, and there he was, gripping a mug filled with black coffee like a lifeline, taking conservative sips every now and again with a supremely annoyed look on his face.

Luckily for Daphne, she knew better than to press Draco to get on with it; once he'd had his coffee, he was all sunshine and efficient business, but if you interrupted him beforehand? Tracy had found out in their second week here that he could be _very much_ like his namesake, if you bothered him before he was finished with his morning coffee.

Daphne didn't think her ears would _ever_ stop ringing after that tirade.

Huffing as she took a draw from her orange juice, Daphne wondered if she should 'provoke the dragon', as Hestia put it once, just to make something happen. Then she heard Pansy guffaw loudly from outside the dining room.

Looking up as Draco growled lowly next to her, she was met with a strange sight: Pansy barely restraining laughter and clapping a grinning and rather pretty dark-haired girl on the shoulder in camaraderie.

Figuring she should find out who this new person was, Daphne called politely, "Good morning, Pansy, and… ah, I don't believe we've met?"

Pansy _snickered_ , before the… _mildly familiar_ girl smirked and curtseyed, "Magdalene Lestrange, Heiress Greengrass. Good morning, _cousin_ ," she added coolly to Draco, who had looked up and was gazing at the girl blankly through bloodshot eyes, before addressing the adults in a warmer tone, "Auntie Narcissa, Uncle Lucius. Mother should be down shortly; we, ah, might have taken a game of Reflect a little too far," she ended in a nervous chuckle while everyone else in the room (save Pansy, who was already tucking into her breakfast) blinked in confusion.

"Forgive me, ah, Ms. Lestrange," Lady Malfoy began hesitantly, "I was aware my sister had a daughter, but I distinctly remember her telling me she died at birth."

"Yes, well," the girl calling herself Magdalene sniffed as she sat next to Pansy, "You can thank Dumbledore and his cronies for switching me with the Lovegood's stillborn corpse and altering everyone's memories," as she grabbed a muffin, she addressed Draco directly while Daphne's mind spun, "Are you quite alright cousin? You seem to be affected by a Nargle infestation," and began snickering in mirth while Pansy snorted politely next to her.

Daphne blinked a few times before finding her voice, "You… And you _knew_?" Magdalene nodded around her muffin, while the Young Knight across her stared in awe before grinning and speaking her thoughts, "Pardon my language, but _bloody hells girl_ , how did you end up in Ravenclaw?"

"I must say," put in Lord Malfoy up the table in an oily tone, "You _were_ rather convincing… though I do wonder why Bellatrix told no one of this; it would have made movements against Potter and Dumbledore much easier."

"Or she would have been killed," came a voice like steel from the doorway, heralding the Dark Witch's stone-faced entrance, her smiling husband striding along behind her, "It was imperative she not be discovered, _Lucius_ , as not only would we have lost our most effective spy aside from Snape, but my daughter might have been sent to Azkaban or _worse_ ; I'm sure I don't need to remind you of what Potter did to your son this past year?"

Next to Daphne, she felt Draco stiffen before taking a long pull from his coffee; she patted his leg in sympathy. He hadn't been quite the same, temperamentally, since Potter had cursed him.

The Left Hand hummed in acquiescence, replying softly, "I meant no offense, Bellatrix. I was simply… surprised, pleasantly at that, at your daughter's return," and Lucius raised a goblet to the now-smiling Right Hand and her husband, "Congratulations are in order, and… perhaps an outing to Hogsmede to celebrate?" He glanced at Narcissa, who was looking between her sister and Magdalene with a neutral expression.

"That… sounds acceptable," the Lady Malfoy admitted after a short pause, "Though, sister, I'm a bit shocked at the suddenness of this; truly? Dumbledore and the Lovegoods?"

Daphne tuned them out, turning her attention to the source of this latest bit of juicy gossip, who was stacking pancakes on her plate, "So, Magdalene, you got close to Potter, and now you're betraying him?" Daphne needled, figuring she should get this girl's measure.

Magdalene gave a dry chuckle, "You can call me Maggie, and I got close to him to find a way back to my parents. You see, during the Triwizard I found my true heritage by looking though death notices in the _Prophet_ ; once I had that, it was a simple matter of befriending Potter through Ginny Weasley. At first, I planned to break my parents out of Azkaban by any means necessary, but then the Dark Lord returned and set his sights on Potter; so I figured that the closer I was to Potter, the more likely I'd find myself at the mercy of the Knights of Walpurgis, and, well… Bob's your uncle," she finished with a grin, spreading her arms in a gesture of victory, which Daphne felt was appropriate; the girl had duped practically _everyone_ , and succeeded! In the Young Knight's mind, Maggie had every right to be smug.

"How, though?" asked Draco tiredly, having not taken his eyes off the girl since she entered; at her quizzical look, he elaborated, "You look different. Some kind of potion?"

"Blood potion, based in Alchemy," nodded Maggie, "It took papa and mama nearly a year to figure out the counter potion," and she smiled over at her parents, who were deep in quiet, excited conversation with the Malfoys; turning back to her fellows, Maggie continued, "I made sure my so-called _father_ took me into hiding with the Order, and told my mother I'd be with them. After that, I just had to make my capture look convincing so… so I could return to where I _belonged_ ," she sniffed lightly, then said, "I… still can't believe it all worked, that I'm finally back with my family."

"And you'll be one of us too, no doubt," chirped Pansy, nudging the girl and sharing a grin with her; to Daphne and Draco she reported, "That game of Reflect Master Bellatrix was playing with her? They were using a _Reductor Curse_."

"Whoa," Draco grunted, impressed, while Daphne gasped in surprise; raising his mug to his newfound cousin, he added, "Well met, cousin. No hard feelings from before?"

"Of course not! If anything, I should be asking all of you that question," assuaged Maggie, looking at the three Young Knights anxiously.

Daphne waved her off, "You played your part well, Maggie; one might even say you played it _too well_. After all," she added when Maggie raised an eyebrow at her coldly delivered challenge, "how did _no one_ ever suspect your duplicity?"

" _Daph, cool it_!" hissed Pansy, glancing worriedly toward her Master.

"No, that's a valid question," oiled Maggie, looking at Daphne though lidded eyes, "The answer is that my so-called _parents_ , the Lovegoods, weren't the best caregivers, to say the _very least_ ; once Pandora Lovegood died, Xeno wasn't exactly in a right state of mind," then she smirked _viciously_ , "It wasn't hard to make it look like I was similarly effected by that _whore's_ death, and, really," her voice took on an airy tone, eyes going wide and innocent, "Who would suspect dreamy, airheaded Loony Lovegood?"

Daphne returned the smirk with one of her own, eyes cold as she admitted, "To take an affectation from the Weasel King, that would make you the slimiest snake to ever slither their way into Ravenclaw, if not Hogwarts," and she raised her goblet to the grinning girl as Pansy and Draco nodded grudgingly, "Welcome home, Heiress Lestrange."

Maggie returned the gesture, replying, "My thanks, Heiress Greengrass."

Taking a sip, Daphne decided to ask a question that had been bothering her since Slughorn's Yule party, "So, Maggie, how's Potter at kissing?"

Draco _choked on his coffee_ , while Pansy turned a curious smirk at the blushing Lestrange girl next to her.

Taking a moment to gather herself, Magdalene responded calmly, "Honestly, his technique needed work, but he's a quick learner, so not too bad on the whole. He has this _thing_ he does, though, with the tips of his fingers-"

"Okay, _no_ ," growled Draco while Daphne suppressed laughter at his tone, "We are _not_ talking about snogging at the table, no matter what time of day it is, especially if it's about _Potter_."

"What's this about snogging Potter?" Tracy loudly asked nonchalantly as she entered the room, the rest of the Young Knights and their Masters following her in various states of wakefulness.

Daphne Greengrass decided two things, in that moment, as Bellatrix Lestrange looked away from the conversation she'd been engrossed in with a curious frown while Draco's head hit the table with a groan and the two girls across her dissolved into giggles.

Firstly, she liked this new girl and couldn't wait to see what she was made of; hopefully _her_ mother instilled a sense of professionalism in her, unlike Draco.

Secondly, next time she was in Hogsmede, she was getting Tracy the _biggest_ bar of Honeyduke's dark chocolate she could find for making her morning; the look on the Right Hand's face was _priceless_.

 **[4]**

It was when she was on her way back to her family's rooms to gather her cloak, feeling giddy at the prospect of the incipient visit to Hogsmede with all her new friends, that Magdalene Lestrange first met the Dark Lord.

She'd just skipped around the corner to her rooms, humming 'Weasley is Our King', when she came face-to-snout with Nagini, the Dark Lord's familiar, "Oh! Um… good morning?" the large serpent hissed lowly, turning and slithering in the direction Maggie intended to go…

And there he was, pale snakelike face, slitted red eyes, standing like the god he was before the door to her family's rooms.

 _He was looking right at her_.

Magdalene fell to a knee, bowing her head and crossing her hands over her chest, "I bid you good morning, my Lord."

There was a pause, tension rising in the air about them.

"Does it suit you?" her Lord finally asked in a low voice.

Confusion shot through Maggie's brain, "M-My Lord?"

"The floor. It must be rather interesting," his voice remained even and low, "to capture your attention so totally, Magdalene Lestrange."

Shaking off the disbelief that her Lord had just _told a joke_ , she lifted her head and looked at the Dark Lord's hands instead. For so long, she'd dreamt of meeting the being before her, imagining her parents standing proudly at her side as Maggie received the Mark for her masterful deception of Potter, Dumbledore, even the other Young Knights (who'd received her well at breakfast, congratulating and seeking to befriend the newly returned Lestrange Heiress); the reality occurring before her was…unsettling.

When she didn't speak further, the Dark Lord addressed her, "It has come to my attention, Miss Lestrange, that you'll be visiting Hogsmede today with the other Young Knights," Maggie nodded, but her Lord went on without waiting for a verbal answer, "There is an item in the school that I require for the cause; you, along with three Young Knights of your choosing, will retrieve it."

Her first official mission! And she wasn't even a Marked Knight yet! Tamping down on her excitement, she voiced her only concern in her low burr, "My Lord, _far_ be it for me to question you, but I've not known my peers even a day; would they follow an Unmarked-"

Her Lord interrupted her in a cold voice that cut to her bones, "Given your actions, _Heiress Lestrange_ , you are only Unmarked in that we have not had your welcoming ceremony yet. Choose your companions wisely, if you are trepidatious about how they respect you. You may see this as your final test before you join my forces, as _no one_ , not even your mother, is to know of your task in Hogwarts."

Resolve and pride filled her at this, and Maggie replied steadily, "I understand, my Lord. What will we be retrieving?"

"You are familiar, I am told," the Dark Lord went on, a smile in his tone, "with the Room of Requirement; the item I require lies within the configuration known as the Room of Hidden Things. You may also be familiar with the item in question, as I recall a statue of Ravenclaw in your House's Common Room is shown wearing it upon her brow."

Shock rocked Magdalene, so much so that she lifted her eyes to meet her Lord's; flinching at her own disrespect, she swiftly dropped her gaze, "The… The _Lost Diadem_ , my Lord? It's in _Hogwarts_?"

"Indeed," Voldemort drawled, "I hid it there myself in my youth, when I returned to Britain after travelling the world."

Awe filled Maggie at this; the Dark Lord truly was great, just like her mother told her! And he was trusting her with such an important task, too! Quickly going over what she knew of her new friends and formulating an appropriate plan, Magdalene accepted the mission with a ready voice, "Your will be done, my Lord. None shall see or suspect us."

"I should hope not," her Lord produced a small brown bag from his robes and tossed it at her knees, "A mokeskin pouch; place the Diadem inside it, and keep it on your person until this evening, when I call for you. A final warning, dear Magdalene," he continued sharply while Maggie collected the bag, "I placed powerful protections on the Diadem when I hid it; as such, _do not handle it with bare hands_. You have practiced Occlumency, I hope?"

Magdalene smiled, raising her gaze so that her Lord's mouth and chin were visible, "My Lord, my father and mother placed protections on me at birth to protect my mind. Only they can compel me, or Obliviate me."

Lord Voldemort's return smile was all pointed teeth as he replied in a chilling voice, "I know, child," then he added in a lighter tone, "I also took the liberty of placing a sensible blue cloak in the pouch, to save you a bit of time in preparing for your outing; now, I have kept you long enough, and Hogsmede awaits."

 **[4]**

Harry regarded the Snitch in her metallic hand, thinking on her now-joined past.

When Andromeda entered the room to check on the trio this morning after breakfast, she'd been… well, surprised didn't _quite_ cover it, in Harry's opinion.

Astonished, maybe, or shocked; after finding that all three of her patients walking around (painfully, in Harry and Hermione's case, but there it was), with their beds put together to make one large sleeping/lounging area, along with Ron's sudden recovery from what was supposed to be an incurable condition, the middle Black sister had nearly fainted.

Explaining everything had taken most of the morning. In the end, Andromeda (and her husband, Ted, who'd come into the room when his wife screamed at seeing Ron up and about) had accepted Harry's story with no small amount of pity.

Honestly, the way she'd looked at her **pissed Harry off**. She didn't _need_ pity, and explaining all of… **that** for _the third fucking time_ had taken up most of their morning and left Harry feeling drained. So no beating the ever **-living fuck out of a certain nasally-voiced arse-clown** this morning.

Hermione had whimpered in disappointment, which made her look _so cute_ , but there was nothing for it; Harry's knee felt like it was made of lead by that point.

Ron came to the rescue, then, suggesting they take stock of what they had on them. That had led to further surprises; all three of them were stunned that Hermione's beaded bag had survived, minus the strap, which had been torn away when… **anyway**.

Currently, she was going through it, making sure all her potions and books were still in one piece; at the redhead's request, she'd produced their school trunks so Ron could start putting away their clothes. Of the three of them, he had the most energy, and seemed to always want something to do despite his lingering aches.

Harry's mokeskin pouch had also survived, the items within kept safe by the small bag's enchantments. Her father's Cloak was now lying across her knees where Harry was sat against the joined headboards, Hermione sitting cross-legged and leaning against one of the posts at the foot of the bed while Ron puttered about.

The mirror shard was placed on the bedside table next to the picture of Harry's parents dancing; the final two items, the Snitch and the fake Horcrux, were in her right and left hands, respectively.

"I think it'd look good on you, yes it would," Hermione observed suddenly; lifting her head from her contemplations, Harry saw her best female friend looking at her with wide eyes and a fond smile on her face.

"The locket?" at Hermione's nod, Harry grimaced, "I…Well, it _is_ pretty, I guess. But, well, after what I went through to get it…"

The witch across him gave a hesitant nod of agreement, "Hmm, well when you put it that way… May I?"

Harry tossed the locket to Hermione, who put it on and tucked it into her jumper before going back to her cataloguing as though nothing had happened.

After a moment, Harry dismissed the action, ' _She's been **through a** lot, lately. **I shouldn't** judge her… **now, for** this stupid **Snitch** …_' she turned the golden orb in her metal fingers, reading the words Dumbledore had carved on it for the umpteenth time.

 _I open at the close_

' ** _Please_** _, do be **a little** more constructive **with your** assistance, Mumble- **Snore**_ ,' thought Harry bitterly; all the time they'd spent together, the memories of Riddle and his rise, and now that (s)he was **whole** again…

Useless. Harry didn't bloody care that Riddle had been human. She'd met the fucker, suffered at his wand, seen what his followers were capable of; if the 'lessons' with Dumbledore had taught Harry anything, it was that Tom Riddle was completely beyond redemption, a true monster that needed to be put down, like a Nundu or Cockatrice. Full stop.

A thought occurred to Harry, then, regarding Dumbledore's half-arsed preparations in regards to this war, ' ** _No._** _He… he **wouldn't** … **The** hell am **I thinking** , of _course _**he would**. He put **me with** the Dursleys, **it would** be right **up his** sparkly alley **to do** something so **stupid**._'

"I open at the close…" murmured Harry to herself as Ron put some items in one of the bedside tables; Hermione looked up quizzically at his quoting, but Harry barely noticed. Chuckling dryly, she ground out bitterly, "You never expected me to win, did you, old fool."

" _Harry?_ " Ron rasped next to her, " _What're you on about?_ "

"Dumbledore," Hermione put in lightly, "He didn't exactly prepare Harry for fighting a war, oh no, he most certainly didn't."

Blinking, Ron nodded in half-hearted agreement before asking Harry, " _Well…Yeah, and we should have had lessons too… but what were you saying Harry?_ "

"We could have prepared ourselves," whispered Harry, "And we _did_ , but it didn't matter; the old bastard never expected us to win, let alone _survive_."

Both his friends looked taken aback by this bitter statement, but Harry could hardly blame them; they didn't see the world through the jaded lens Harriet did.

After a moment, Hermione responded, "Tosh, Harry. Why would he have given us this task if he didn't think we'd… oh, I think I see, yes I do. You figured out what the riddle on the Snitch means, didn't you?"

Harry nodded before asking, "Did you come up with anything?" When she shook her head, and Ron gave a negative response of his own when Harry looked at him, the raven haired (who **sometimes** is **a** ) girl sighed and brought the Snitch close to her cracked lips.

 _'I am about to die'_

With a soft _click_ , the Snitch began to open; on his left, Ron let out a disbelieving groan. Harry understood how Ron must feel, being told his best mate was a hero only to find that Dumbledore saw him as…what? A sacrificial lamb? Harry looked up to ask Hermione her opinion-

She was staring blankly at the Snitch, totally still, eyes wide with shock; her _eyes_ … it was like there was no light there. "Hermione?" ventured Harry, worried for the girl.

She blinked before meeting Harry's eye, face taking on innocent curiosity, "Yes, Harry?"

Harry blinked back, "What… What do you think, now?"

Hermione tilted her head to the left before answering in a whisper, "I think… that I would like some tea. Oh, and I'd like to go back in time and **brutally murder our Headmaster** , but mostly I'd like some tea, yes I would!" she finished with a happy nod.

Harry exchanged a worried look with Ron, but her best mate looked like he might agree with their (possibly deranged) female friend, " _A_ rock _. A century and a half of magical knowledge, and the arse gives you a_ rock _._ "

Inside the Snitch was a square-ish lump of stone, like an uncut diamond; it was solid black, with a symbol scratched into its cracked surface: a triangle with a circle inside it, the circle divided by a line. It was…Harry remembered. He'd (Harry had turned back into a boy; somehow, it felt like it was proper for this moment) seen this before, in the memories Dumbledore showed him!

"It's…it's the stone from the Gaunt ring," Harry breathed, turning the Snitch over to let it fall into his left hand; Ron leaned in for a closer look while Hermione cleared a path to crawl closer, "See the crack? That's where the Sword of Gryffindor nicked it, when Dumbledore destroyed the Horcrux."

Hermione arrived at his legs, pulling herself practically onto his lap to get a closer look at the stone; after a moment of careful study, she murmured, "Where oh where have I seen this symbol before?"

" _It's the Peverell Family coat of arms_ ," rasped Ron dismissively; when both his friends looked at him weirdly, he continued defensively, " _What? I'm a Pureblood, you know; everyone in Britain knows about them, even though there's none left. They founded the Ministry building, you know._ "

"I didn't know, but thank you Ron," Hermione breezily replied, reaching over to a stack of books, "Maybe that book, _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , the Headmaster left me has a clue, yes it might," and she was flicking through said ancient book before her male friends could respond, using Harry's right arm as a backrest.

The raven-haired teen looked up at his best mate worriedly; this time, Ron returned the look, biting his lip in concern. Harry didn't feel, however, that now was the right time to bring up their apparently shared concerns to their female friend.

Given what they'd gone though, Harry figured, she was no doubt feeling wretched, but was choosing to ignore the pain for now, distracting herself with research and mundane tasks; that wouldn't last long, though. Harry knew, through Harriet, that if one ignored the problem long enough, it would turn into something worse…and he didn't want Hermione hurting herself because of **those bastards**. He'd probably be spending a lot of time as a girl for the next few weeks, helping her get through this.

Ron, on the other hand…The tall redhead leaned down and whispered in Harry's ear, " _We need to talk to her later mate, when she's not on a study bender_." Harry felt himself blush when his best mate's breath washed over his earlobe, a tingling feeling running through him as Ron's words assuaged his concerns about taking care of Hermione. ' _Bugger me, **I really** am hopeless, **aren't I**?_'

"I think I found it," Hermione chirped, putting the open book on Harry's lap, "It's all written in Runes, though, but that symbol's on the top of the page."

It was, too; blinking, Harry shifted back to girl form (it was easier, somehow, to think about Runes and Arithmancy in female form) and read the title on the page, " _The Tale of Three Brothers_."

Ron scoffed, " _Seriously? A kid's story about not messing with Death?_ "

"Oh, you know it Ron?" blinked Hermione, leaning her head on Harry's shoulder and looking down at the book; while Harry tried to keep her blush from growing, she went on in the same airy tone she'd been using all day, "Tell us a story, Ronnie."

"Not the whole story," Harry corrected in a higher-than-usual voice while Ron spluttered in humor, "Just the content. I can read the Runes," she said to Ron's raised eyebrow, "but this thing's in Old English, and I _hate_ Old English."

" _Err, right then,_ " began Ron hesitantly, face scrunched up as he tried to recall the details of the story, " _Three brothers cheat Death, who then tricks them into asking for gifts that'll kill them. One gets a wand that can't be beaten, but he gets killed in his sleep after boasting about it. One asks for a way to talk to the dead, but he kills himself in despair because he can't touch them. The last brother asks for Death's cloak, so he can hide from death; he's the only one who lives to old age_ ," the redhead coughed a couple times as he finished, before sitting on the bed at Harry's feet.

Harry mused on this as Hermione responded thoughtfully, "So… What does this have to do with Dumbledore giving Harry a tiny rock?"

The other foot dropped. For Harry, it was like Grawp had clubbed her on the head, "Three brothers…The _Peverell brothers_ ," she looked at the stone in her hand while her friends blinked at her in confusion, "The second brother, Ron, what did Death give him?"

Blinking as realization dawned on his face, Ron breathed disbelievingly, " _A pebble… Bloody hell, there's_ no way," and he looked at the stone like it might grow legs and run off.

"Many of the myths out of history have _some_ truth to them," Hermione stated blithely; when both Harry and Ron looked at her like she was a stranger, she spoke defensively, "What? Most of the Greek Pantheon were actually wizards, you know! Honestly, it's like everyone thinks History is just about the Goblin Wars, oh yes they do."

Turning back into a boy and ignoring Ron's faux-awed, ' _There's more to history,_ ' Harry shook his head before asking him, "Does that story say how it works? The stone?" he added when he frowned.

" _Uh… Yeah. Turn it three times_ ," then he blinked, " _Though… if it_ is _the same stone… Harry, mate, are you sure_?" Hermione gripped his bicep, her nails digging in a bit, looking at him with worry in her gaunt face.

' ** _Am I_** _sure?_ ' wondered Harry, looking at the tiny stone, ' _On **one hand** , I could **talk to** my parents **, Sirius, Dumbledore**. On the **other hand** , the only **case of** someone else **using this** has them **committing suicide** … At least, **that I** know of. **Best not** risk it._' Tossing the stone into the air and catching it, Harry grimaced, "No… not yet, at least," he sighed shakily as Hermione's grip lessened and Ron scratched his neck, "I… don't think that'd be good for my emotional state, at the moment." He put the stone into the mokeskin pouch.

" _We're here for you, mate_ ," Ron patted Harry on his shin, " _Even if you're a girl sometimes_."

Hermione nodded slowly against his shoulder; Harry looked down at her, but her eyes were distant. Clouded. Harriet's memories told him what was in her head: she was seeing **the hallway** again.

He couldn't take seeing her in pain. Ever. Not when he was Just Harry, and not now; a part of him/herself told Harry that his/her best female friend and crush likely had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of her ordeal; distantly, Harry was surprised he wasn't more affected by his own experiences, but then, Harriet had time to come to terms with what happened to them. That's what Hermione needed now, time, as well as whatever comfort Harry and Ron could give her.

So thinking, he shifted his right arm, snaking it around her shoulders and pulling her into a protective embrace, whispering, "It's going to be okay. Look at me, luv," she did, tears in her eyes, as he smiled down at her, "I promise, it'll be okay." She buried her face in his chest, a single sob leaving her.

Ron frowned at them for a moment before apparently coming to the same conclusion Harry had; crawling around to the other side of a now-shaking Hermione, he wrapped his arms around them both and put his face in her hair, adding hoarsely, " _We got you, baby. Never again_."

They stayed like that for a while, both boys comforting their distraught girl.

Harry must have dozed off at some point, comforted himself in the warmth of both his friends, because he was suddenly jerked awake by raised voices somewhere outside their room; Hermione stiffened between them as Ron lifted his head and glared at the door.

"… _no choice, Andromeda! They followed Molly to Brittany; just be glad we got the Tracking Charm off her before coming here!_ " Remus…

" _There's not enough room here for everyone, Remus,"_ they heard Andromeda reply in clipped tones, " _You'll have to bunk up, if you're all staying_."

" _Fine by us," "Been doing it for years now," "What's another few months?_ " That was the Twins; Harry glanced at Ron. His face was contorted into a hard scowl, no doubt thinking the same thing Harry was: what was everyone doing here?

Hermione gripped Harry's shirt, asking quietly and fearfully, "D-Do you think something's h-happened back home, Harry?"

Before Harry could answer, the door swung open suddenly, revealing a pink-haired and tired-looking Tonks.

She was saying to her mother, "I'll just take my old room-oh!" She froze on spotting the trio on the bed; blinking, her eyes focused on Harry, who sighed tiredly. "H-Harry?"

' _Too **soon** …_'

" _Harry?!_ " Remus practically shoved his way past Tonks, but stopped and paled on seeing the three of them in bed, "Wh-What? Harry..." he'd no doubt noticed Harry's eyepatch, as the werewolf's knees started shaking and his eyes went wide. Ron climbed out of bed with a low groan, Harry tightening his grip on Hermione, who was shaking again and murmuring ' _Go away,'_ over and over again.

Tonks found her voice first, addressing a slowly approaching Ron, "Ron… what in Circe's name _happened_?!"

" _Get out_ ," growled the tall redhead, pointing at the door and leveling a withering glare at both of them; Tonks jerked back at his tone, Remus putting a shaking hand on her shoulder and looking between Ron and Harry, who was ignoring them all as he gently rubbed Hermione's back and shushed her. At the door, Fred and George were looking in with wide, shocked eyes; a sigh came from the hallway right before Andromeda took charge.

"Out. Now," her tone brokered no argument as she pulled the Twins away from the door; Tonks, her hair starting to turn grey, began moving away. Remus stopped her by tightening his grip on her shoulder.

"Harry," began Remus carefully, voice hoarse with worry and trying to catch the teen's eye, "Please, just say some-"

" _GO AWAY!"_ shrieked Hermione, now shaking terribly in Harry's arms, " _GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!_ "

Snarling, Ron grabbed both Remus and Tonks by their shoulders and, in a feat of strength that was surprising given recent events, all but shoved the two adults out the door before slamming it shut. A Locking Charm hit it a second later, followed by a Silencing Charm right as Andromeda began verbally tearing into the members of the Order.

As soon as they were gone, Harry quickly shifted to girl form and began rocking the sobbing, traumatized girl in her arms, "They're gone, luv. They're gone. It's okay, 'Mione; I've got you hun."

Ron climbed back into bed, glancing at the items his girlfriend had been sorting as he got closer to the two girls, all but snarling, " _Dunno what they were thinking, looking at us like we're a circus sideshow or something_."

"They're just worried about us, **not that it excuses them** … but all the same," whispered Harry shakily, smoothing out Hermione's wavy hair as her sobs began quieting and her shaking lessened in intensity; reaching out her right hand to Ron, Harry smiled at the approaching redhead, "C'mere, you."

Ron smiled slightly, taking Harry's hand and wrapping it around his shoulders as he joined the embrace; Hermione's shakes completely stopped when Ron's body touched her, sighing in relief. Harry put her forehead on his shoulder and said softly, "Thanks. I hate it when people look at me with **pity**."

" _Anytime_ ," breathed Ron against her ear, giving her goosebumps; he then asked, " _You good now, 'Mione_?"

She nodded against Harry's chest before saying, "I'm sor-sorry, oh yes I am. I… I don't think I can face them… N-not yet anyway…"

Ron squeezed her shoulder as Harry asked, "What set you off? Was it Remus?" when she nodded again, Harry added soothingly, "That's normal, hun. It took Harriet a few weeks before she could talk to Just Harry without breaking down. Just know, we're here for you."

" _You don't have to talk to anyone else_ ," added Ron encouragingly, patting Hermione's leg soothingly, " _Just Andromeda, the Elves and us_. _Not until you think you're ready_."

"Thank you… Thank you both," extracting herself from their embrace, Hermione smiled brightly up at them both.

Then she grabbed Ron's face and kissed him roughly; Harry smiled at that, thinking it wouldn't be so bad getting Hermione back on track. She reached out to grab her cane/staff, figuring she'd try taking a shower while her two friends focused on each other.

"Harry," she looked up at Hermione's soft voice-

 _And then she was kissing her._ Harry could feel the groove of the scar on Hermione's soft lips as they pressed against her own scarred mouth; the brunette's tongue slipped out and snaked across Harry's slightly dry lips, wetting them and drawing a soft mewl from the dark-haired girl before Hermione broke the brief kiss, smiling shyly as Harry tried to maintain contact… before realizing what had just happened.

Harry sat there, stunned into silence, her one eye staring at a point just over Hermione's head; Ron leaned over, grinning impishly.

As the silence dragged on, both of Harry's friends began to get worried looks in their eyes; Ron broke it, " _Err, Harry? You in there?_ " Hermione began chewing her lip, looking like she wanted to apologize.

Harry's one eye blinked a couple times before answering, "You know… it's _really_ weird sometimes, being whole. On one hand, I realize you're just thanking me, Hermione, and I _really_ appreciate the affection," said girl looked like she was about to start crying again, and Ron was frowning, so Harry held up a hand, "but on the other hand, I've also _never been kissed before_ … and that was _glorious_."

What tension there had been in the room vanished as the trio laughed. Getting up, Harry figured a _cold_ shower was in order, ' _I'm so **bloody hopeless**._'

 **[4]**

Hermione smiled to herself as she watched a still red-faced Harry limp over to the loo; despite all that had changed in the three of them, they were still the same people underneath… _mostly_.

 _It's too bad my Harry's leg is bothering him so much…_

 _That **Death Eater** is quite overdue a **punishment** , oh yes he is!_

 _But it wouldn't be fair to my Ron and my Harry if I **tore him apart** without sharing!_

 _Hmmm…What to do, what to do?_

Ron patted her on the shoulder; looking up, she found him looking at her in concern, so she asked, "Yes, Ron?"

His poor voice was still harsh and raspy when he smiled and said, " _You kissed Harry._ "

Hermione blinked before asking reproachfully, "Is there something wrong with that?"

" _No, no, there isn't,_ " her Ron replied, kissing her brow before climbing back out of bed, " _Just didn't know you were into witches, is all_." Hermione gaped at Ron's back as he chuckled and dug around in his trunk, producing his broom and giving it a thoughtful once over as Hermione considered his words.

 _I'm…huh, so I am._

 _Though, given that my only physical experiences with men has been…_

 _**Rather lacking** …_

 _It's hardly surprising I find my Harry's girl form pleasing._

 _Yes, hardly surprising at all!_

Nodding to herself, the brunette witch started putting the items she'd been sorting back into her beaded bag; nothing important had been broken or damaged, _thank Merlin_ , but there was an unfortunate side-effect to completing her organizing, Hermione found.

She now had nothing to do. Watching as Ron began tweaking the bristles of his Cleansweep and hearing the shower activate in their private loo, Hermione considered her options.

 _The Order's here…but I'd rather not see them at the moment._

 _Hmm…too bad I don't have my wand, either._

 _Aha! I could brew some potions!_

 _Oh, but Andromeda might not like me doing that without permission…_

 _**Bloody overprotective adults**._

 _Darn, I need something to do, yes I do…but what?_

 _Hmm…_

 _Hmmmmm…_

 _**…Hm.**_

Moving to sit on the side of the combined beds that was furthest from Ron, Hermione whispered hopefully, "Kreacher?"

The ancient Elf appeared with a quiet _pop_ , and Hermione got a good look at the Black Family House-Elf for the first time since Sirius died.

His eyes were even more sunken than before, his pale body, already pale when she last saw him, looked almost waxy on his thin bones as he stood before Hermione, leaning on a short cane.

When Kreacher spoke, it was raspy with disuse, "Missy be calling Kreacher?"

 _Huh. He didn't call me a **mudblood**._

 _Good. I'd hate to have to **cut his ears off**._

Tilting her head and regarding the Elf with wide eyes, Hermione asked concernedly, "Good morning, Kreacher. Harry told me what you did at Grimmauld, yes he did. How are you recovering?"

"Kreacher is…" the Elf coughed once, before straightening as much as he could and replying impatiently, "Kreacher has seen better days, Missy, but Kreacher will serve the House of Black to his dying breath. What can Kreacher be doing for the Heir's Missy?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Ron: he was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, curious as to what she was doing. She flashed him a grin, all teeth and **viciousness** , which he returned with a sadistic smirk before going back to his broom maintenance.

Swiveling her head back to the old Elf, Hermione asked sweetly, "Seeing as Harry's hand has the crest of House Black on it, I'd surmise Dobby and Winky took everything not nailed down from the house?" at the Elf's nod, the brunette witch had to suppress a squeal of joy, " _Excellent_. In that case, Kreacher, there are two things that I need from you."

Kreacher nodded again, giving her a gesture to go on.

"Firstly, I'd like every book on the Dark Arts in the house, so I can study for a project Harry is currently working on," she didn't blink once as she said that sentence with a grin on her face, watching the Elf for any sort of negative reaction.

She needn't have worried, as Kreacher took on a thoughtful expression before growling quietly, "Bad Master Sirius burned all the books in the main library, Missy, but Kreacher can gives Missy books from the Lord's Study, with the Heir's permission."

 _Yes yes yes yes!_

 _My Harry will be so proud of me, when I find a way to destroy the **Horcruxes**!_

 _Yes, oh yes, he most certainly will!_

Hermione turned to yell for Harry, but found Ron had moved to the loo's door and had opened it slightly.

"Who is it?" Harry's feminine voice drifted to her ears.

" _'S Ron, mate. Hermione's wondering if she can read some of Sirius's books, but she needs your permission first_ , Heir _Harry,_ " Ron chuckled at the end before adding, " _Or is it_ Heiress _?_ "

"Bugger off, you," laughed Girl-Harry, making Hermione's belly go all mushy at the sound, "And tell Hermione that's fine, she can read whatever she wants."

 _Eeee! I love you, my Harry!_

Turning an expectant look on Kreacher, the Elf grudgingly nodded and said, "Kreacher will have one of the young Elves brings up the tomes on Dark Magics, Missy."

Hermione nodded, "Very good, Kreacher. Now," she pulled the fake Locket out from under her jumper, watching as the old Elf's entire countenance shifted into horrified shock and confusion at the sight of the piece of jewelry.

 _Ah, I **knew** it, yes I did!_

Grinning savagely, she asked, "You've seen this before, Kreacher?" after the Elf nodded his head jerkily, she ordered in a dangerously sugary voice, "Hmm, _do tell_."

 **[4]**

Blaise stumbled out of the Floo grate in the Young Knight's recreation room, dropped to one knee and forced down the resultant nausea from international Floo travel.

Earlier today, he'd been in a meeting with sympathetic members of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House Minucia (better known as the leading family in the Magical Italian Mafia _and_ said nation's Parliament) regarding illicit potion ingredients that his comrades in Britain needed when one of the Knights assigned to him arrived with a message: he was being recalled for two days. Apparently, something had changed in the Game and Blaise needed to be briefed on the details before talks with the Mafia could go any further.

The Game. A tangled web of political dealings and backdoor favors that was played on the international scale, where a slipped-up word spoken in the wrong company could ensure a knife in your ribs while you slept. The Dark Lord had plenty of agents (none Marked, all paid well) spread across Europe that brought him the latest gossip from ballroom floors and Ministry offices, keeping the powerful man appraised of the going-ons in the Magical World, as well as making deals that would ensure a smooth transition when (not _if_ ) the Dark Lord began making his moves.

Blaise was one His best agents, hence why he'd been sent to Italy alone to get the measure of the Patrician Families and see if they would make good allies if war broke out.

Choking down rising bile, the dark-skinned young man popped the cork on the Anti-Motion-Sickness bottle in his left hand and chugged the foul-tasting potion as fast as he could, ' _I bloody_ hate _Floo travel_!'

"All right then, Blaise?"

Finishing the bottle off, Blaise looked at the speaker: Theo Nott, in full Knight regalia with his mask in one hand and a small smirk on his homely face, his other hand held out to help his fellow Young Knight to his feet. Blaise accepted it, noticing there was no one else in the room, grunting as he rose and gave voice to his thoughts, "I fucking _hate_ the Floo."

Theo scoffed, still smirking, "Who doesn't? C'mon," the blonde waved his mask at a set of robes laid out on a loveseat, "Get dressed. We're wanted in the ballroom."

' _A meeting? Why didn't my Mark burn?_ ' mused Blaise as he shrugged off his traveling cloak and dress robes, pulling on the silver trimmed black hooded Knight robe as he asked, "Fill me in, Theo. What's been going on these days?"

Theo shrugged, making Blaise smirk; ' _Some things never change_.' Then his blonde-haired friend began speaking, "Thicknesse is Minister, Old Rufus is dead. Dark Lord's got a plan: adopt new Muggleborns into families when we find out about them… And, um, I'm courting Pansy," he trailed off, a blush creeping up his face as Blaise started laughing good-naturedly.

"Well, good! Merlin knows that girl needs a _real_ man in her life. Good on you, mate," complimented Blaise with a smile while his friend just grinned and blushed harder; clasping the official robes closed, he asked mildly, "Any news on Potter?"

Blaise Zabini never _personally_ agreed with the Dark Lord's obsession with Harry Potter, but then, he'd only joined the Knights of Walpurgis for two reasons: women and prestige. ' _Italian girls, mmm_ ,' he thought absently, thinking of the red-headed noble girl he'd had on her father's desk five days ago, as he adjusted his gloves and waited for Theo to respond. ' _Good that she's going for the opera, natural soprano that she is-'_

"Potter's crippled."

Blaise's head whipped about so fast that, were it not for the massage he'd had yesterday, he'd surely have cricked his neck. "Come again?" he weakly asked Theo, whose face was now looking haunted.

"Potter. Is. Crippled," responded Theo slowly, looking at a spot just over Blaise's shoulder, "Remember that Op just south of Liverpool, back in the end of June?"

Blinking a moment, Blaise remembered, "The one with the countless kneazles and that black haired woman with fantastic tits?"

His friend blinked himself, "Err, yeah. Don't know about _fantastic_ , but… Anyway, the guy what led us, Donovan?" Blaise nodded, vaguely remembering the cool-headed thug, "Him and fourteen of his boys fucked Potter, Weasley and Granger up, Granger in a literal sense. I kid you not, mate, it looked like a bloody _griffon_ had a go at them."

Blaise picked up his mask in numb fingers, forcing himself to calm through an Occlumency exercise, "So… this meeting, are we going to watch the Dark Lord kill Potter?"

"Nah. Those three got away with House Elves, took Donovan with them too, or so Lady Bellatrix reckons," his friend responded, heading for the door and starting to smile again, "No, you've been called in so we can welcome another Young Knight to our ranks properly."

Now Blaise's interest was piqued, "Fuck, mate, I leave for a month and everything changes. Who're we getting anyway?" he hoped it was another girl, one that was more receptive to his advances than Daphne or Tracy.

Theo snorted as they both left the rec room and began heading for the West Ballroom, "You're just hoping for an extra bit of tail, you rake; what's the matter Zabini, Italy got you blue or something? 'Cause if it did, I'll just sic the twins on you tonight."

' _Damn, I missed this_ ,' grinning, Blaise let the feeling of _home_ wash over him as he and Theo bantered on the way to the ballroom. Despite joining the Young Knights for admittedly selfish reasons, Blaise's peers were all good friends (or, in the Carrow twins' case, a bit more); training for war with them only brought a refreshing change to their group dynamic. Pansy was like an annoying younger sister to him, Draco and Theo the brothers he should have grown up with; Millie, Daph and Trace were all-around brilliant witches that made the black boy's life _far_ more interesting with their devil-may-care attitudes, and with the Carrow girls, Flora and Hestia, there was never a dull moment. Even Vinnie and Greg, dullards that they usually were, held a place in Blaise's heart as ruthlessly loyal friends.

A month gone, even if it was in Southern Italy with some _very_ promiscuous and discrete noble daughters, was _too_ long away from his friends.

Arriving at their destination in short order, Blaise took a moment to look around: the white marble of the ballroom was the same as ever, as was the red carpet covering it, but the people milling about were different from what he remembered. For one, only the Young Knights were present; Theo made a beeline for Pansy, who was looking much better than when Blaise had last seen her. Her face was tan and had lost all of the remaining baby fat around her cheekbones, and her shoulders looked a bit broader as she smiled up at Theo, mask on the side of her head.

"Blaise!" glancing away from Pansy, he saw Tracy's grinning face, her blonde hair pulled up in a bun, "When'd you get here?"

"Just now," he replied, smiling roguishly at the shorter girl, who of course had brought all the attention onto him. After few moments of exchanging greetings and noticing the changes in his friends over the past month (Millie was looking slimmer, and Daphne was smoking hot as ever, but Draco looked like he needed more sleep), Blaise asked the biggest question on his mind, "So, Theo tells me we're getting a new addition to our little group?"

Pansy grinned, "Yeah! We spent the day in Hogsmede with her," ' _Oh yeah, new girl!,_ ' thought Blaise as the short brunette went on, "She's got _skill_ , Blaise. She's been undercover practically her whole life!"

"Don't give it away, Pans," Vinnie quipped, "I wanna see this spook's face when the other foot drops."

Ignoring Pansy's ' _Don't call me that!_ ' and Vincent's good-natured barb, Blaise turned to Draco with a questioning look, but the Malfoy heir just smirked and shook his head. Naturally, that's when the doors on the other side of the hall opened.

Smoothly sliding to attention at the sight of Lucius Malfoy entering with his ( _MILF_ ) wife, Blaise clamped his own bone and silver mask to his face observed the procession of masked Senior Knights filing in and forming a semicircle in front of the Young Knights: Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood, Rastaban Lestrange with Lead Curse-Breaker Margaret Jennings, Quartermaster Lester Buchannan frog-marching a bound and stumbling figure, who was then forced to his knees in the center of the semi-circle of Knights, a bag hiding the poor sod's identity. Severus Snape billowed into the room soon after, Walden Macnair striding in his wake.

Finally, the last three people entered the room: Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus, both walking with great pride as they took their places at either side of an empty space, which was soon filled by the Dark Lord himself, Nagini coiling at his feet. ' _The whole Inner Circle. This girl must be really important_ …' thought Blaise as he bowed his head and saluted, his fist on his heart.

" _Hem hem_ ," coughed a feminine voice from right behind Blaise; ' _Oh FUCK NO!_ ' he thought, thinking of a pink cardigan and awful kitten plates. He turned around, stepping to one side…

Meeting the hooded, masked form of a _quite fit-looking_ girl in Knight regalia, around his age and maybe a few inches shorter than he was; she _stalked_ past him, giving a little skip as she approached the bound figure. She stopped and saluted the Dark Lord, who was grinning in glee.

Their Lord chose that moment to speak, "Another Knight of Walpurgis joins us this eve. Supplicant, remove your mask and introduce yourself to your soon-to-be peers."

Blaise felt a moment of trepidation as the girl raised pale hands and removed her hood, allowing wavy black hair to spill over her shoulders; deactivating the Sticking Charm holding her mask in place, she turned around and locked her lidded, gorgeous blue eyes on Blaise's wide browns.

' _Morgana's. Luscious. Divine. Tits._ ' Blaise thought numbly, realizing this girl's facial features were _damn close_ to the Right Hand's, except more beautiful; and her eyes… Blaise knew those eyes, the eyes of someone who played the Game and played it well. Dozens of questions flicked through the dark-skinned boy's mind, not least of which being ' _What's her cup size?_ ', but all were tossed aside when he heard her confident, husky voice.

"I am Magdalene Lestrange," she said, smirking slightly before continuing, "I discovered my true lineage in my third year of Hogwarts, where I went as Luna Lovegood," a jolt of shock ran through Blaise's being, but Magdalene was still talking, "and I've spent all my time until this moment learning the behaviors and capabilities of Potter and everyone associated with him."

"Were you ever discovered, or suspected of duplicity?" the Dark Lord's cold voice cut across the room, bringing Blaise out of the shock this revelation visited upon his mind.

At least, until _Magdalene_ grinned like the cat that got the cream. "No, _my Lord_ ," she drawled, turning back to face him, "Potter trusted me implicitly, and his friends followed him like _sheep_. Even the old fool Dumbledore never suspected that I was leaking Order movements and safe-houses to my mother and father," the Right Hand's head tilted back in great pride at that, Lord Rodolphus squaring his shoulders in equal satisfaction.

Lord Voldemort nodded, asking, "You wish to join the Knights of Walpurgis, then?"

Magdalene squared her shoulders in confidence, "Yes, my Lord."

"Then," the Dark Lord spoke slowly as he waved his wand, Vanishing the burlap sack from the prisoner's head, "Prove your conviction, before my eyes, Magdalene Lestrange."

Blaise glanced at the figure on the ground, who was now looking about fearfully: Roger Goodwin, Hufflepuff, graduated two years ago, a Mudblood. After a moment, he seemed to realize the hopelessness of his situation and said shakily, "Well… shite."

"Hello Roger," Magdalene greeted in an airy tone that reminded Blaise of the girl she pretended to be, "It's too bad that bag blocked out all sound; the Wrackspurts in your head seem to be breeding rather quickly. Oh, and for your information," she added when Mr. Goodwin looked at her in confusion, switching back to the husky drawl she'd been speaking in, "Wrackspurts means you look rather confused about something."

The brown-haired young man looked at the Lestrange heiress with slowly dawning horror, "L-Luna?" When several of the Inner Circle and Young Knights started chuckling he cried, " _Luna! Luna fight it! This isn't you!_ "

"Firstly, Roger, it's Magdalene Lestrange, or Maggie," said girl simpered while Blaise grinned behind his mask, "Secondly, you were told not to raise your wand against us again, but, well, I suppose fools never learn from their mistakes; not to worry, though, I'll take care of that right now," Magdalene leveled her wand at Roger's terrified face, saying in a flinty drawl, "Nothing personal. _Avada Kedavra_."

A flash of green. _Thump_. Death rattle.

Blaise watched the Lestrange Heiress as she looked down at the body of someone he'd known Luna Lovegood had been good friends with, had shared many a conversation about magical creatures in the Hogwarts library with. If there was any doubt in his mind that Magdalene was deceiving them, that she was actually playing the Knights, it vanished when she aimed her wand carelessly at the Mudblood's corpse and flicked the body out of the semi-circle.

The Dark Lord grinned before hissing something at Nagini, who slithered after the body; Blaise averted his eyes from the area in question, feeling Draco suppress a shudder and Daphne gulp quietly on either side of him.

Then, Lord Voldemort spoke, "Present your left arm, Magdalene Lestrange," said girl did so, kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet; their Lord placed his wand on her wrist and spoke in an officious tone as both of Magdalene's parents came to stand at her shoulders, "As one of the Knights of Walpurgis, much will be asked of you; you will be asked to kill, to torture for information, to hunt down those that would disrupt my vision of a unified Magical World. In peace and war, salvation and slaughter, with quill or wand, you offer your hands, eyes, ears and voice in service to your Lord. Do you accept?"

" _Yes, my Lord_ ," breathed Magdalene, sounding overcome with emotion; Blaise wondered, briefly, how he could use her apparent convictions to get her in his bed… until he remembered who her mother was. ' _Might have to do this properly, for once. Don't want to end up as Dementor food_ ,' he thought as a pained hiss filled the room.

Bellatrix gripped her daughter's shoulder as the Dark Mark swirled into existence on Maggie's wrist, the Right Hand's head held high in pride until their Lord lifted his wand.

Maggie stared at the Mark in awe as the Dark Lord finished the ritual, "Welcome, Magdalene Lestrange, to the Knights of Walpurgis."

Congratulations and applause filled the room as the black-haired girl grinned bright enough to light the darkest of nights, and a young man wondered if he could make her smile in the same way.

 **[4]**

Alex Donovan came back to reality slowly, his mind foggy; not that his mental condition stopped him from trying to take stock before opening his eyes.

Both his arms and legs were bound in thick ropes to a heavy armchair; so, _Potter_ had captured him. Memories of the fun he and his mates had had with the Mudblood came to his mind, as well as how it ended, ' _Beaten by a House Elf. That's a new one…_ '

"Good evening, Mr. **DEAD MAN**!" a chillingly cheery female voice, slightly raspy, tinged with madness and a _little familiar_ , simpered from in directly in front of him, "I'd say it was nice to see you, **but that'd be a lie, and honesty is _such_ a rare commodity these days, oh yes it _isssss_!**"

Now Alex looked up.

Muggle trainers, knee-high socks in Gryffindor colors wrapped around some _nice_ crossed legs of the seated-

 _The Mudblood_. Potter's Mudblood. They were both sitting in a circle of light, nothing but darkness around where they were seated. She had a notebook and a pencil on her lap, was dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, Prefect badge and all, and was _grinning at him with insanity in her eyes_.

Her **eyes**. He'd destroyed her eyes! ' _Damn, they must have a good healer_ ,' Alex thought, subtly testing his bonds. No dice. ' _Fuck._ '

"What was it you said?" she 'hummed' in pretend thought, tapping the pencil eraser against the scar through her lips, "Ah, it's on the tip of my tongue… Ron? Jog my memory?"

A wispy growl answered, " _With gusto_." Movement, on his right; a grinning Weasley, in a red jumper… _swinging a Beater's bat into his kneecap_.

 **CHUKK**!

Alex gasped for a moment as his kneecap shattered under the blow before screaming in pain; it wasn't a Cruciatus Curse, but having your knee broken by a Beater's bat was a sure-fire way to ruin one's week.

"FUUUUCK!" he was finally able to get out while the Mudblood kept tapping her pencil on her lips, realization slowly dawning on her scarred face.

"Ah! _Now_ , I remember, oh **_yes I dooo~_** ," the Mudblood suddenly said in a voice laced with venom, "It took hearing your **nasally voice** to remember, but there it is. I believe you said… ' _Take a good look, because it's the last thing you'll ever see_ '," and she started _giggling_. Weasley joined her a moment later.

Meanwhile, Donovan was starting to sweat, mostly because of his shattered kneecap and the fact that both these kids looked like they needed a Mind Healer. Or a lobotomy.

"Ah," came another voice from the darkness, "You missed _one thing_ , Hermione."

"Oh, but that hardly seems _fair_ , my Harry," the gaunt-faced girl grinned at Alex when addressing _Potter_.

" _He's got one extra_ ," Weasley put in from behind Alex; the Mudblood nodded and shrugged, still smiling.

"Fair enough," then Potter walked into the light; he had an eyepatch over one eye, was dressed in bottle-green dress robes, and had a dragon-hide glove on his right hand, which was gripping an expensive looking cane.

The scars on his face twisted horribly as Harry Potter grinned at the Death Eater before him, one remaining eye glowing as it locked on Alex's horrified face, "Eye for an eye, _Death Eater_. _Accio Right Eye!_ "

 **. . .**

 **. . .**

 **. . .**

Hours later, after telling the three teenagers he'd mutilated everything he knew, Alexander Donovan was killed by Hermione Granger. She used the Killing Curse.

 _He was but the first of many_.

 **[4]**

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 **[4]**

 **A/N:**

 **Trust me, you _don't_ want to know what the Golden Trio did to Donovan; let's just say it would've violated this site's terms and conditions and leave it at that.**

 **That, and writing torture scenes is just as tedious as reading about them.**

 **Writing Pansy, Daphne and Blaise was actually kind of fun, even though most of Daphne's scene was dialogue-based. There'll be more of them in the future, as well as the odd Draco-centric scene; I hate canon!Draco, as well as the way _most_ people write him (a colossal, misguided dick), but rest assured: this Draco won't be completely insufferable.**

 **Oh Maggie, you're truly your mother's daughter. And Blaise has his eye on you… Who'll vamp who? Oh-hohoho! I can't wait to write _those_ scenes!**

 **Not so much Bellatrix this time. She'll be back, though.**

 **Concerning a single line that I have a _small_ problem with: Harry's dislike of Dumbledore is mostly Harriet's fault, and is based on said old guy's manipulations in canon. One thing that is prevalent throughout the HP fandom is Dumbledore being a manipulative arsehole… on the other hand, Harry's indecisiveness and childish assumptions _kind of_ makes such measures necessary. Bottom line, _I DO NOT BASH CHARACTERS_ as a rule; poke fun at, yes. Outright bash, nah.**

 **The next chapter will cover the Order's reactions to the Trio, and preparations for the coming war on both sides.**

 **Two chapters, dear readers. Then the hammer falls.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~Baked**


	6. 5

**There is no warning this time. Chapter's pretty tame.**

 **I've kept you waiting long enough.**

 **On with the show.**

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 **Unforgivable  
By B.O.F.S  
[5]**

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 **[5]**

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 **[5]**

Susan Bones sighed in frustration, staring up at the canopy of the four-poster bed she'd been spending the last hour trying to fall asleep in. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable, or that she was sharing a room with five other girls; the bed was soft and cozy, and she'd spent the last six years of her life bunking with Hannah, Leanne and Megan at Hogwarts.

It was the past eight days that had Susan tossing her blanket off in a huff and quietly sneaking out of bed, a cup of Chamomile tea on her mind.

The day of the Ministry's fall saw her fleeing to the 'safety' of the Order's new base at Prewitt Manor, courtesy of Auror Shacklebolt, someone her Auntie told her could be trusted to keep her safe. That had been fine, at first; Ginny and Luna had been there, along with their families and most of the DA. Ginny, frustrated that she couldn't follow Harry on whatever mission Dumbledore had given him, took charge and had the present members (herself, Luna, Hannah, Justin, Dean, Ernie, Terry, Kevin, Anthony, Padma and Parvati (who'd managed to sneak away from their parent's), Lavender, Colin, Dennis, Katie, and the Weasley Twins) hone their dueling and fighting skills as much as they could.

Then the second day dawned, bringing the news that Bellatrix Lestrange was all but tearing Britain apart looking for someone; the adults in the Order suddenly became very nervous, especially Professor Lupin. He'd gone out to London to check up on something, only to return with the news that one of their safe-houses had been compromised and was under constant Death Eater guard.

She didn't know why a safe-house being broken into and occupied was such a cause for alarm, but Ginny became distraught when the name of the redoubt was overheard by Kevin: Grimmauld Place.

Apparently, it was one of the places Harry had been likely to go in case of emergencies; however, as there'd been no sign of either Harry or the other two members of the Golden Trio, the general consensus was that the three had tried to get in the house, but were followed and were now on the run. With the Taboo in place and Harry's partiality for saying _His_ name, most of the adults figured that was the case, and Susan herself agreed with them; powerful and talented (and _handsome_ , though Susan wouldn't admit it out loud) though he may be, Harry was more than a _bit_ reckless.

Then Lestrange had found them, before they could do anything beyond getting evacuation plans hashed out.

And everything went to Hel all over again.

By the time they'd shaken the Death Eaters off, the Order was cut in half; nearly every Auror that had joined them, save Shacklebolt, Hestia Jones and Tonks, had stood their ground so that the children could flee. Given Lestrange's temperament, they were probably dead. Not so for the others they'd captured; Molly Weasley had managed to get out of the country and, with Professor Lupin's help, rejoined them in the south of Paris. The news she'd brought was grave.

Ginny and Luna had been taken to You-Know-Who, Muriel Prewitt had been killed, and Lestrange was looking for Andromeda Tonks, Auror Tonks' mother and the owner of only secure Order safe-house on the Continent. Lisa Turpin had been forced to give the names of the Order's leaders before being released; according to Padma, the Ravenclaw girl had probably fled to America with her family.

With the Trio missing, Neville in hiding with his grandmother, and Ginny and Luna captured, it fell to Susan, who now had a scar on her cheek from narrowly dodging one of Rodolphus Lestrange's Cutting Curses, to lead the DA remnants; Susan's first order of business was keeping everyone's spirits up and giving them something to keep their minds off the war. A quick conversation with Arthur Weasley and Auror Shacklebolt had the Trace removed from all their wands; her logic was that if Greyback caught up with them, all the better if they could defend themselves. The Twins, Ernie and Padma backing her up helped get the adults to agree.

Then they'd finally arrived at the Lorraine Villa, weary from travelling across the French countryside. The two story vacation house only had four bedrooms, so the adults decided to set up a magical tent next to the pool in the central courtyard of the square building. Personally, Susan had just wanted to unpack, get a hot meal into her stomach, take a _long_ bath, and sleep for days.

Then Fred and George had all but barged into the girl's room, the rest of the DA boys in tow, and called an emergency meeting; seeing their pale faces had nearly sent Susan into a panic, visions of massacres back home dancing in her mind. But she'd forced herself to stay calm, remembering her Auntie's lessons on crisis handling, and asked them what was wrong.

They told them. Or, George told them in a shaky voice, while Fred looked like he was trying to hold himself together.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were _already here_ ; not only that, but the Order's theory about Grimmauld Place had been spot-on…

 _Except the part about them getting away_.

Lavender, Parvati and Hannah had wanted to go down and comfort them right away, while Justin had said their friends would certainly feel better if they saw the entire DA still had their backs, with most of the boys agreeing. Susan had to yell for calm before asking the Twins of the trio's current condition.

To which George had relayed Andromeda's message to the Order _and_ the DA: Harry, Hermione and Ron had gone through a traumatic experience, needed rest, and weren't to be bothered; the Master Healer added that she'd warded the room so that only she, her husband, or the room's occupants could open the door. Fred had added, in a toneless voice, that Ron had a scar across his face and Harry was wearing an eyepatch…

And they'd _never_ heard Hermione scream like that, when Lupin had refused to leave the room.

Once she'd gotten over the shock at learning the three had been _tortured_ , Susan had backed up Andromeda's order with her friends: they'd give the trio their space for three days, at best. If none of the DA members saw hide or hair of them by then, Susan, Padma, Ernie and Terry would go check up on them. Everyone, tired in both body and spirit, had agreed with the plan.

Wrapping herself in a house-robe, Susan carefully opened the door to the girl's room and slipped out, heading for the kitchen.

The past day had been trying as well: Mrs. Weasley, having learned of the trio's condition, had gotten into a screaming match with Andromeda about seeing her son; or so Susan gathered. She'd taken the DA outside after breakfast to work on their spell- and foot-work, as well as learning how to Conjure or Transfigure cover while under fire. The middle Black sister had won the row by informing the Weasley matron that the three of them were capable of moving around on their own, if painfully; if they wanted to interact with anyone, Andromeda felt that it should be on _their_ terms, not Molly's, and the Order leaders had begrudgingly agreed.

Which meant there was a lot of quiet crying and depressed faces around the dinner table that night, the Gryffindor trio conspicuous in their continued absence.

But Susan wouldn't let this stop her. After her Auntie Amelia had… _died_ … she'd sworn a Blood Oath that she'd see _Voldemort_ and his followers dead or ruined no matter what it took; she'd visit the suffering he'd caused others upon him a hundred-fold, even if the cost was her life and the end of her House. Even without the DA this past school year, she'd self-studied as much as she could in preparation for the war she felt was coming; not just spells, but Pre-Auror physical training to improve her stamina and agility ('a stationary target is a dead target' Old Moody had once said to her, when she'd started learning dueling).

…Though, most of Susan's determination to see _Voldemort_ and his Death Munchers _bleed_ had to do with finding out that her Auntie, the most precious person in life, had not only been killed, but had been in a room that was _locked from the inside_ … _and it hadn't been **quick** or **merciful**_.

Tamping down on her **fury** , Susan looked out the window at the pleasant moonlit French countryside; it did nothing for the feeling of dread rising in her, that one of the smartest and bravest witches in her age group might also have been _locked in a room with Death Eaters_. Just the thought made her wish she still had Lestrange's husband in front of her **so she could castrate him and make him _eat it_**.

Shaking her head to dismiss the violent thoughts, as it was hardly the time or place for such musings, she realized she was close to the kitchen, but there was a light on in the downstairs sitting room (the spare upstairs room had been claimed by the Twins, Lupin and Auror Tonks as a bedroom/laboratory); frowning, she decided to see who else was having trouble sleeping. Stepping up to the doorframe, she looked toward the fireplace, the only source of light in the oak-paneled room.

Four chairs sat in front of the flickering flames, but only three were occupied, if the shadows of their legs resting on the carpet was any indication; there was also the sound of quiet scratching, like a quill on parchment but different. Susan also smelled tea and something chocolatey.

Gulping, not knowing who could be up this late, she called softly, "Hello?"

The scratching immediately stopped.

Then the shadow of a head leant slowly out of the first chair on the right to look at her; Susan saw the glint of red on the person's head before they beckoned in a harsh whisper, " _Come in, Susan_ ," before leaning back out of sight.

Taking a nervous step into the room, a raspy yet warm male voice came from the leftmost chair, "Ah, Susan! I guess we're not the only ones having trouble sleeping; Kreacher, another teacup please," she heard a small pop as she came around the rightmost chair and took in the Golden Trio's appearance for the first time since she got off the Hogwarts Express this past June.

Ron _did_ have a faded white scar across the bridge of his nose and beneath his eyes, but he also had a small shock of white hair on the right side of his head, and was dressed in a house robe of his own with a cup of tea floating in the air next to him as he stared into the fire, blue eyes gleaming, face a bit more gaunt than she remembered. He also had a faint dark spot on the side of his neck that hadn't been there before…

Next to him was… _Hermione_. Her wavy hair framed her now-gaunt face, wide golden-brown eyes, ringed with heavy bags (' _Is she sleeping well_? _Probably not…'_ ), staring at her; she was also dressed in a sleeping robe that was partly opened at the top, revealing her freckled and _faintly scarred_ collarbone and a hint of cleavage. Despite her ragged appearance, she seemed fine overall, if the thick notebook, open on her lap, and the fountain pen clutched in her left hand were any indication.

Harry was lounging comfortably in the last armchair, right leg thrown over his left, black slippers covering his feet; his right hand was covered in a dragon-hide glove and was currently tapping the rim of a cup of tea. Even though he was smiling warmly at her, the eyepatch over his left eye and shiny scars that covered the surrounding area made Susan's heart quake.

On a low table in front of them was an ornate silver tea tray with a teapot, a box of assorted tea leaves, and a plate of chocolate biscuits; pouring herself a cup and taking a couple biscuits, Susan tried to keep her hands from shaking. Two emotions warred in her mind: shock at her friend's condition…

 **And white-hot fury at whoever _dared_ do this to them**.

Numbly falling into the offered chair, the redheaded Hufflepuff looked between the founding members of the DA one more time before closing her eyes and trying to force her raging emotions down; while doing so, she took a deep breath and asked in a tone of false calm, "How… How are you all? Fred and George told us about what happened yesterday morning."

Hermione's eyes fell back to the notebook in her lap and continued writing, as though she hadn't heard the statement, while Harry answered in a slightly raspy voice, "Surviving. Sorry for not making an appearance at dinner. Some… information came to light, and we had to alter our plans."

Susan blew on her tea as Ron picked up the thread of conversation, his voice still a harsh, raspy whisper, " _What Harry means is we noticed my sister and Luna were missing, so we had to revise our plan for striking back against the Death Eaters to account for liberating prisoners_."

Oh. _That_. "If it helps," began Susan carefully, because these three seemed _very different_ , but she wasn't about to judge them on first sight, "we're pretty sure they were taken to Malfoy Manor. You-Know-Who's using it as his main base of operations," she explained to the boys' raised eyebrows, "or, so Kingsley says…" she took another sip of tea.

"Unfortunately, accessing Riddle's main base will need more actionable intel than what we currently have." Hermione's voice was flat and emotionless; she also didn't stop writing or look up as she put her two Knuts into the conversation.

Not that her behavior bothered Susan much; blinking, the last member of House Bones asked curiously, "What you currently have?" Harry nodded, looking back at the fire and smiling slightly before speaking.

"Hermione. Catch her up."

The Gryffindor Prefect immediately sprang into action: laying her fountain pen aside, she paged back through the journal while commenting dryly, "From your lack of outright reaction, Susan, we'll assume you can imagine what happened to us; anyway, what's important is that we took one of the people who **brutalized** us prisoner, yes we did. This notebook contains all the information he gave us… well," suddenly her whole face changed, becoming cruelly sadistic, "it's the cleaned up and ordered version, anyway; it'd be rather _hard_ to read, after all, if every other sentence contained his **terrified screams** , **oh yes it would**." She looked up at Susan with a happy smile, eyes coldly laughing.

' _Morgana's tits, they didn't…_ ' looking at the two boys, she saw Ron had a similar look on his face, while Harry had the look of a supremely satisfied cat as he casually sipped his own cup of tea. ' _Oh Merlin,_ they did _…_ ' given everything that'd been happening lately, not to mention that the Trio was suggesting they'd gotten their pound of flesh for their suffering, Susan couldn't bring herself to feel _too_ shocked or upset by this revelation. All the same, her voice still shook slightly when she asked, "And, ah, what… what did you find out?"

Hermione patted the journal in her lap, "Quite a bit; we have the names, observed behavioral patterns, and specialties of Riddle's Inner Circle, along with the same for much of the rank-and-file Death Eaters, along with the details of some of their field operations. Speaking of which, did you know that **Bellatrix Lestrange** has started militarizing their forces? Apparently, they're expecting an open conflict or wider Magical War, oh yes they are," and the girl _giggled_ , which would have been creepy to Susan…

If she hadn't been smiling in satisfaction; _finally,_ some intelligence they could act on! However, before she could ask anything else or comment, Harry spoke up, "Unfortunately, Mr. Donovan's knowledge is out of date; given what we know, from the House Elves overhearing conversations around the Villa, my _dear, sweet, homicidally insane **aunt** _was probably the one who discovered what happened at Grimmauld," he took a calm sip of tea and concluded his thoughts, "which, given her status in Riddle's forces, means that she'll have taken steps to ensure any intelligence we gather will prove incorrect in practice; security passcodes, side projects, personnel structuring, things like that."

While Ron hummed and nodded next to her, Susan blinked at that… rather _accurate_ estimation of this cocked-up situation; it was something she'd expect to hear from Hermione, Padma, or Auror Shacklebolt. She, like others in the Order and the DA, was of the opinion that Harry, for all his skill and experience, was still a reckless Gryffindor at heart… on the other hand, given recent events, this newfound maturity and decisiveness was probably his way of getting with the program. She _did_ have one question, though, "Riddle?"

This time, Ron answered, a small smirk on his face, " _Tom Marvolo Riddle. Hogwarts Class of 1945. Slytherin, Head Boy, 10 NEWTS, all Outstanding. The Heir of Slytherin. The Dark Lord_ ," he looked right into Susan's wide eyes and finished, " _Son of a love-potioned Muggle man and a mentally challenged witch from the_ ," he sneered, " _Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt. Yeah, Susan; Moldy-shorts is a_ Half-Blood."

Merlin's. Lacy. _Knickers_. "How in Circe's name did you find _that_ out?!" Susan whispered in shock and confusion; she _really_ didn't think some rank-and-file Death Eater would have information like _that_ in their head!

"Dumbledore," breathed Harry exasperatedly, lips pursing before he expounded, "He knew Riddle when he was a student; after Halloween 1981, Dumbledore spent the next fifteen years digging for information on the bastard, and found out where he came from, who his parents were… and a few other interesting tidbits that I'll be going over when we meet the Order tomorrow after breakfast."

The other two nodded in agreement while Susan took that in. After a moment, though, Harry went on with a bitter smile on his face, "Of course, our illustrious Headmaster didn't trust anyone else with that information, and, seeing as everyone who knew Riddle when he was still human is either dead or rotting in Azkaban, there's no way to corroborate anything he told me beyond Pensieve memories and his word."

Susan blinked in confusion; good thing she wasn't _too_ tired, or this conversation would be impossible to follow, "You don't trust Dumbledore's word?"

" _Oh, we do,_ " Ron put in, " _It's just that there's no hard evidence; if we had_ that _, we'd be able to tear the bastard down legitimately, sow dissent in his followers_ ," he coughed, " _Even without hard evidence, that information would be really damaging… if everyone wasn't so afraid of him and Lestrange_. _Even so… just the suggestion that he's less than he seems would make people question his rule, and anger the fucker himself_ ," smiling at Hermione's soft chiding for using foul language, Ron concluded confidently, " _And, as every good strategist knows… an angry enemy is a predictable enemy_."

Ah, _now_ she understood… she thought, "Then you three are serious," Susan smiled at the three of them, feeling a glimmer of actual hope that the Light could win this, "You're really going to take the fight to them?"

Hermione nodded with a feral grin, "Oh, yes we _are_. Buuut, before we get ahead of ourselves," the Muggleborn witch glanced briefly at Harry before turning a serious look on Susan, "The three of us talked it over, after we were done with that Death Eater; we want to bring you _completely_ into the know, Susan, mostly as an apology, but also because you've held the DA together-"

"Hold on," putting down her teacup, Susan looked between the three Gryffindors, "An apology for _what_?"

Ron sighed sadly and leant forward, fixing Susan with a look of understanding and remorse, while Hermione paged through her journal. "Aha! Here it is," the gaunt girl took a long sip of tea before turning to Susan, "Amongst the many things we asked that **nasally-voiced twit** , there was _one thing_ Harry really wanted to know: how your Aunt died."

The redhead girl stiffened; looking at Harry, she saw that his one eye, while shadowed, had an eerie glow to it, his face set in cold anger. Swallowing, and a bit curious herself, she told Hermione in a flinty tone, "I… I saw the body **,** Granger **. I _know_ how my Aunt died.**"

" **Ah,** " the other girl said, raising a finger with a mad grin on her face, " **But do you know the _names_ of the ones who were there?** You see, that's why we owe you an apology, why we want you to work with us in bringing Riddle down; because _we took your vengeance from you_ , yes we did," the brunette finished with a sorrowful tone while Susan's heart pounded with her raging emotions, Ron squeezing her knee in sympathy.

" _We killed Donovan, and six of the other Death Eaters who died at Grimmauld were in that room with your Aunt, Susan_ ," the other redhead confided to her while the Bones Heiress shook with conflict. She was happy, that her Auntie, the closest thing she'd ever had to a mother, had been avenged by the trio; still… **Susan wished she could've gotten her own pound of flesh, made them _suffer_ for what they'd done to her Auntie.**

" **All save two** ," growled Harry, drawing Susan's attention once more, " **Riddle… and _Rodolphus Lestrange_**."

Susan lifted a hand to her right cheek, tracing the thin, brown scar that ran from near her ear to just above and next to her upper lip… which was _slowly curling into a **smile**_ , for it seemed she _would_ get her chance at **vengeance** , "Ah… So," she turned her smile on Harry, who looked at her curiously, "What's our first course of action, Harry?"

He smiled slightly, stifling a yawn and saying, "First, we get some sleep. Then, the meeting after breakfast… by then, we should have plugged a certain… _leak_. Once we have an idea of where everyone stands on our cause, and figure out what assets remain to us, we'll go from there," Harry then reached around his chair and produced a ruby-headed cane of dark wood before moving to rise, wincing as he did so.

Seeing that he was having a little trouble, Susan put her teacup back on the tray and moved to help him; Hermione watched her do so with wide eyes as she put her notebook into a small beaded bag (' _Expansion Charms_ ,' Susan figured, ' _Pragmatic…_ ') while Ron moved to help her rise, the brunette girl gratefully whispering, " _Thank you, Ron_."

Helping Harry to his feet and seeing him put more weight on his left leg than his right, Susan asked concernedly, "How… Will your leg be alright?"

Harry shrugged as he responded, taking Susan's arm as the four teenagers began the short trek back to the trio's room, "I'll have a limp from now on… and it gets stiff if I sit too long," he chuckled dryly, "Not even out of my teens, and I already feel like Mad-Eye must have."

She chuckled back, not noticing the Prefects behind them exchanging knowing grins, "You're still young, Harry," her voice was soft as she laid a hand on his upper arm, "I've… seen you bounce back from worse; like when McLaggen cracked your head open… Or when the Dementors attacked you in Third Year…" she shuddered, looking down at the floor and blushing; Susan wished she could see him fly again, but with those injuries, his wiry, toned body was probably in so much-

' _Damnit, Bones! Tamp down on that crush; time and place, girl!_ ' Like many girls in Hogwarts, Susan had noticed how much Harry had grown from the scrawny firstie into the lithe, handsome, talented young man he'd shown himself to be in 5th year; last year, she'd often wondered how she could try to get the raven-headed boy to notice her, but _then_ she'd noticed how… _lost_ he'd seemed, and figured she should keep her distance. After all, her… Auntie… had told her that some Aurors who'd seen death in their line of work became despondent for some time afterward, but they just needed time to come to terms with such things; sometimes, though, Susan cursed herself for being such a coward. Their situations were similar, and poor Harry had needed a friend.

But now, Harry surprised her by barking out a laugh and turning to face her as they came to a stop in front of the trio's room, "Thanks, Susan…" he fixed her with a smile that made her want to _hold him_ , "you're right; we'll come back from this. But enough about us," his eye flicked to the scar on her face as his smile faded a bit, making her cringe, as she'd hoped (irrationally, him being a Seeker and all) that he'd not noticed, "How're you holding up?"

" _'scuse us_ ," Ron rasped, he and Hermione moving past the pair and entering the room, hiding their grins as best they could.

Susan blinked, before looking away from Harry shyly, realizing that, aside from the house robe she and slippers, all she had on was a sheer nightie and her knickers, "I'm, ah…" she smiled brightly at him before shrugging, a slight blush on her face, "Surviving," he laughed softly at that, but then she added a little more seriously, "Keeping the DA together isn't as easy as you three made it look; Kevin, Anthony and the Creevey brothers keep suggesting we snatch up some Muggle weapons, see how the Death Eaters like _that_. It didn't help that the Twins and Katie agreed, but Padma, Justin and I managed to pull them up. And… _ugh_ ," she ran a hand through her red hair and looked at Harry with a desperate expression, "I wish we'd gotten more books out of Prewitt Manor; I know a bunch of spells, from… from Auntie, but-"

"You need more," finished Harry for her in a knowing tone; she nodded, still blushing a bit and using her right hand to cover the scar on her face. Then, Harry surprised her again by reaching out to her face with his left hand, sliding his hand beneath hers, and running a finger along the scar with a frown. ' _Does he have **any idea** what he's doing to me?!_' "Been meaning to ask: who?"

Pursing her lips, but not taking her hand off his, she told him, "Rodolphus Lestrange. _Tch_ ," Susan's small smile turned bitter, " **As if I _need_ another reason to hate him**."

Harry gave her a gentle, warm smile of his own, scars on his face pulling a little as he replied softly, "You'll get your chance Susan, I promise. I'll ask Hermione to put together some spells for us to practice; we'll go over them after the meeting tomorrow," he took her hand, kissed her knuckle softly, and said with a caring smile, "Sweet dreams," before limping into his room, the door slowly closing behind him…

As Susan Bones fought the urge to ask to spend the night; shaking the happy (and mildly improper) thoughts away, she turned her feet back towards her rooms, but not before musing, ' _Bloody buggering Hel, even nearly crippled he's still unbelievably charming_ and _dishy! Ginny, you lucky bitch…_ '

 **[5]**

In the dark of the room Susan walked away from, three voices could be heard whispering on the conjoined beds.

" _She has the conviction to begin, but will she see it through_?"

"Have you forgotten who her Aunt was, or what she meant to Susan? That girl would move mountains to get her satisfaction."

"True for us all, is it not? But I think I know what you mean, about seeing it through, yes I do."

"Hm?"

" _Given what we plan to do…_ "

"Ah… I see…"

Silence…

"You don't approve, then?"

" _Didn't say that, did I? Will **they** approve, that's the question_."

"A moot point, oh yes it is. _Some_ will disapprove, we know this, knew so when we agreed on the plan. The _real_ question is: will the people we need for this approve?"

Silence…

"She will."

" _So will Fred and George._ "

"Oh, _yes they will~_. I imagine they'll be positively _ecstatic_ at the ideas I've formulated. We may as well throw the rest of the present DA into that category."

" _What about Shack and my parents, or Remus and Tonks?_ "

"…No. They can help with logistics and the occasional intelligence, but we won't lump them into either category until the meeting's over."

"Mm-hm. Bill and Fleur?"

" _They'll join. Jones won't. Too much of a conflict of interest, her sense of justice skewed by Dumbledore's influence, same as Shack and the others. She'd make a good diplomat, though…_ "

"Hmm… Does it bother either of you, that we're basically manipulating them?"

"If it ends the war, is that a bad thing?"

Silence…

" _She has a crush on you, you know_."

"Of course I know, it was pretty obvious."

A girlish giggle, "But how far will you take it? With Ginny captured-"

"Whoever said I was going to take it anywhere? You two. Ginny. That's all I need…"

" _If we bring her totally into the fold, it would be to our advantage if you showed_ some _interest in her. You_ are _Heir to two Houses, and I know Ginny doesn't hate her_."

"She also doesn't like sharing, mate. That's not a problem for _me_ , and something tells me Susan won't mind much, but Ginny…"

"…I don't know if you're right there, my Harry. She didn't mind terribly when you snogged Luna senseless after Slughorn's party, no she most certainly didn't."

"How the _bloody hell_ do you know about that?!"

" _Mate, it's Luna._ Everyone _knew something happened when she didn't stop smiling for a week._ "

"What does this have to do with Ginny?"

"Well, you didn't mind _too_ much when she was dating other people, no you weren't, and she didn't mind you seeing other girls either. We're just saying, my Harry… please keep your options open."

" _Mmm, doesn't hurt that there'd be_ two _redheaded girls in this bed with you_."

Thump. "That's your _sister_ you berk."

" _And? It's not like_ I'm _the one she's interested in_."

"…Oh."

Giggle. "I wonder if you can handle _two_ strong-willed girls, my Harry, oh yes I do~."

Scoff. "I already handle you two well enough... though, between the two of you…"

Another giggle, softer this time. "Not again, my Harry. We're both still tingly from earlier."

A satisfied grunt of agreement.

"Yeah… same here."

Silence.

"… _Is it weird, that you're attracted to both me_ and _my sister?_ "

"Not through my eyes, or, well, _eye_ , no… you?"

" _Honestly, a little. Then again, I can't bring myself to care much. I can't control who I love any more than you can. I said I'd be here for you, and I meant that. Just don't break her heart, Harry_."

Silence…

"…Harry?"

"…I'm afraid."

" _Of?_ "

"…That they'll break her before we can get to her."

Silence…

"If… they do… then we'll put her back together, make her good as new, oh yes we will."

" _Right after **burning Malfoy Manor to the ground** , right?_"

"Of course! Or would you prefer **blowing it sky-high**?"

"Hmm, why not **both**?"

"… ** _Both_** _sounds good._ "

" **Mmm** , **both** it is. Go t'sleep, you two. Big day tomorrow."

"Goodnight my Harry, my Ronnie."

" _G'night my 'Mione, my Harry_."

A soft chuckle, shifting sheets, "Goodnight my Ron, my Hermione… _sweet dreams_."

 **[5]**

Throughout the Magical World, a headline appeared that was hailed as the same thing with different wording depending on the country of publication. In Britain, the source of this breaking news, the headline was (arguably, from the Trio's perspective) the most accurate:

 **REVOLUTIONARY LEGISLATION PASSES IN WIZENGAMOT!  
MUGGLEBORNS TO LEARN OF MAGIC EARLIER!  
WILL JOIN NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSES TO LEARN PROPER WIZARDING TRADITIONS!**

Really, it _was_ quite the conversation-starter; the British Ministry had come up with what was, in its essence, a foster program for magical children that hadn't been born to the Wizarding World. Muggleborn children under the age of 8 would, at the first sign of accidental magic, be taken to a well-appropriated building (a manor house had been proposed, with a very tasteful example pictured in the _Prophet_ ; in actuality, the manor that would be used once belonged to the Dagworth-Grangers, and had been given a facelift so as to deflect suspicion… not that the public needed to know) and given education on their abilities and the world they would soon be entering; they would be provided with protection in the form of an Auror detail, three meals a day, and all the comforts of Pureblood lifestyle, including a Quidditch pitch, greenhouse, and a grand library (a call for book donations held pride of place on page 5).

Once the children acclimated, they would be made available to meet with families who were looking to adopt, and there was certainly no shortage of these! A pre-census at the Ministry showed that Britain's population growth had been falling at an alarming rate in the past half century, partly due to inner conflict, and partly due to an increase in stillbirths and miscarriages. Several St. Mungo's Healers and an Unspeakable were quoted as saying this new policy concerning Muggleborns would greatly help with the latter issue as it would introduce new blood to a slowly stagnating society, while the head of the DMLE, Corban Yaxley, reported that Ministry Aurors would coordinate with the Knights of Walpurgis in keeping the crime rate down throughout Magical Britain, as well as investigating any and all rumors of corruption within the Wizengamot.

As for the older Muggleborns, they would be offered better jobs, as well as a generous government-approved monthly stipend, provided they register their blood status at the Ministry and live full-time in the Magical World. Boarding houses were already being planned for the London Alleys and Hogsmede in anticipation of an influx of magicals who, until now, could not afford residencies in either population center.

Meanwhile, on page 8 of the _Daily Prophet_ :

 **Bellatrix Lestrange, other Azkaban escapees, to receive retrial.  
Concerns over corruption led to Chief Warlock's decision.**

The article went on to detail Barty Crouch, Sr.'s apparently slick palms when it came to placing members of Noble, Ancient, and/or Noble and Most Ancient Houses in Azkaban with minimal evidence, rubber-stamped forms and virtually no questioning. The inhuman conditions at said prison, mostly due to "intentional underfunding during Minister Fudge's regime", were also called into question.

Bookending these two controversial articles were pro-Muggle reports (invariably written by Half-Bloods and Muggleborn with knowledge of both ways of life, or so the articles claimed) which, taken together, implied the new government under Pius Thicknesse was taking a more progressive stance than the previous two Ministers, with respect to the Statue of Secrecy of course. Even then, the undertone of the articles gave the impression that, despite these apparent steps forward, the underlying traditions of British wizarding society (that is, a society run by various Noble houses, or an 'old-boy's club' if you lived in the more run-down parts of Knockturn Alley) would be emphasized and preserved, draconian tendencies be damned.

Overall, however, the special edition _Prophet_ was well-received by most of Magical Britain's public; the fact that the headline article was accompanied by an announcement (by a Ms. Tabitha Sikes, who was rumored to be the next DADA professor at Hogwarts) that Hogwarts' curriculum was being scrutinized in preparation for a modern-day overhaul (due to falling standards and less-than-stellar OWL and NEWT averages) meant that most readers had their fears of another Blood War soothed.

In a rainy London, on a lesser-frequented portion of Knockturn Alley, Dean Thomas snarled in disgust at the entire rag. The tracking charm that had been placed on him after Prewitt Manor hadn't been _too_ hard to remove (being around Hermione Granger for six years had _some_ intellectual benefits, and he'd taken Arithmancy, so…), but he knew he was probably still being watched, and, with what he'd read in this edition of the _Prophet_ , he also suspected that the Death Eaters weren't standing idle and basking in their victory like Ginny, Shacklebolt and Lupin thought they would.

They were doing what the Nazis had done: consolidating their power before… what? Taking over all of Europe? The very idea was sobering; that You-Know-Who didn't seem to be concentrating on Harry didn't help the dark-skinned Gryffindor's anxiety. On the other hand, Dean mused as he paged through the sheets looking for any mention of the Trio, it _also_ didn't seem like the bastard had caught his friend and roommate, seeing as such a thing would no doubt be front-page news.

Putting the stolen _Prophet_ in an inside pocket once he saw a certain tiny article on the back page, Dean hiked his coat's collar higher against the relentless downpour and made his way down a side alley, heading for the flat where he had been living, for the past three days, with other… social undesirables, backtracking a couple times to check for pursuers. It was run-down, paint and wallpaper alike peeling, floorboards creaking, and there were only two bedrooms for the six people living there, but Dean just felt lucky that he'd managed to find _some_ like-minded individuals in this depressing place, people who felt that everyone should be treated equally.

Who saw Harry as someone who could stop You-Know-Who once and for all. That he'd stumbled onto the place just three days ago while running from Snatchers (wizards whose job it was to bring reluctant Muggleborns to the Ministry to register their blood status) only said good things about his luck; plus, he actually had some good news today…

Making sure he hadn't been followed, Dean stepped through the rickety, worn door and shook the rain from his coat before hanging it on the rack, "I'm back!"

"Damnit, Thomas, I _just_ mopped there!" snapped a middle aged, brown-haired, gaunt woman from the doorway to the living room.

Dean gave her a tight smile in response, "Sorry, Agatha. Not like I can stop it pissing down, you know."

She was the owner of the flat, and a werewolf; unlike Mr. Lupin, however, she seemed to be permanently angry at _everything_. From the Ministry for its anti-werewolf laws, to Greyback's pack for being homicidal rapist pigs, to You-Know-Who for being himself, to the Muggle world for cutting down the forests she liked going hunting in on the full moon, Agatha was mad at it all. She'd made a living working as a barmaid at one of Knockturn's pubs until You-Know-Who's attack on the Ministry last year, after which she'd been approached by Greyback's weres. She didn't like talking about the encounter, but Dean and his flat-mates got the impression that Agatha had to fight her way out of the situation. After that, she'd gone into hiding, gathering other people who didn't fit into either world, in the hope that she'd be able to do some service for Harry, who was pretty much the only person in the universe she _wasn't_ mad at; Dean figured, from the framed copy of the famous _Quibbler_ article that had Harry's interview hung over the fireplace, Agatha liked Harry's stance that werewolves and other humanoid magicals deserved a fair chance in society, traditions be damned.

Right now, there were four other 'people' living in the house besides Dean and Agatha: two siblings, Regina and Tommy, who were vampires. They took care of getting food for everyone in the house, going out at night and stealing from Muggle shops. And if they drained a homeless person or two? Not Dean's problem, as long as they didn't try to drink _him_ , and these were desperate times, regardless. Dean didn't see them much, mostly due to them keeping different hours and sleeping in the basement.

Then there was Isaac… Dean wasn't _too_ sure what he was, as the six-foot-three lanky 'man' with an unnaturally chiseled face always kept his entire body (including his hands) covered, but the dark-skinned Gryffindor was fairly sure normal humans weren't supposed to eat raw meat, or be capable of lifting an entire gas stove with _one hand_ (though that talent did come in handy when it came to sweeping under things or moving furniture). On the other hand, the tall sort-of-man was one of the most insanely polite and soft-spoken people Dean had ever met, and treated everyone in the house with kindness and respect, even if they were being ridiculous (which, between two teenage (in appearance) vampires and a grumpy werewolf, was often).

Finally, there was Stacey… who was a nineteen-year-old human/sphinx _chimera_ that lived in the attic, mostly so she could keep an eye on everything on the street outside. With the legs and tail of a lion, a tuft of golden-brown fur starting at her clavicle and ending at her navel, the strange golden, glowing eyes of a sphinx, and a mane of blue-black curly hair that fell to the middle of her back, Stacey was the product of some mad wizard's attempt to create the perfect being. Unfortunately for him, the subject of his experiments didn't much appreciate being kidnapped and having her body surgically and magically altered against her will; so it followed that the mad bastard ended up resting in pieces, as the young woman's strength had been enhanced to the point that she could knock out a troll (not that she'd ever seen one, given that she'd been a Muggle before being kidnapped) and was as magically resistant as Hagrid. Stacey, meanwhile, spent the past three years doing odd jobs around the Alley, mostly thieving or exotic dancing in disreputable pubs (and woe betide the moron who got handsy!). In Dean's opinion, despite her appearance, she was the most… _normal_ member of the household; she liked listening to Queen and The Beatles, had the world's greatest poker face, and browsed the latest fashion magazines.

A normal, pretty, easy-going girl… that was strong and fast enough to rip a wizard's arms off before they could even think to cast a spell. So, a mix between Ginny, Hermione, and a hippogriff, in Dean's opinion. Perfect being, indeed.

Presently, Stacey was descending the stairs, the tops of her leonine legs clad in jogging shorts and a smile on her face as she approached him and Agatha, who was grumbling under her breath about water getting on her nice clean floors. "You weren't followed," the chimera reported, an omnipresent purr in her tone, gleaming eyes pinched in hope, "Did you find out anything?" she added while Dean removed his boots and glanced at her yellow T-shirt, which read "Queen of the Jungle".

"Yep," he replied, reaching up to his coat and producing the _Prophet_ he'd lifted from a newsstand six blocks away; unfurling it so both demi-humans could see the headline, he bitterly added, "Nothing about changing magical creature legislation, but… well, it doesn't look too good-hey!" Dean shouted as Agatha snatched the paper from him and began pursuing the articles, steadfastly ignoring the young man's fuming.

It didn't take any time at all for the werewolf's signature snarl to form, "Fucking barbarians, taking kids from their parents and turning 'em into _more_ spoiled brats… You're not _actually_ gonna register with this… _DMPE_ bullshite, are you Thomas?" seeing his negative head shake, Agatha tore through the pages, looking for something, "Still nothin' on Potter, eh? Thank goodness for small mercies."

"What about on the back page?" purred Stacey as she twisted one of her ringlets around a finger; Dean smiled, having seen the same thing himself. Not much escaped the pretty chimera's eyes.

The werewolf flipped the paper over, eyes flicking over the adverts and minor articles until she found what Dean and Stacey had seen: a tiny ad, in the bottom left corner of the paper:

 **REWARD:**

 **300 Galleons**

 **For any information leading to the location and safe return of  
Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger  
To the Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

 **Last seen in Metropolitan London**

 **If seen, contact your local DMLE office**

"Tch, not very subtle, is it?" scoffed Agatha in disgust.

"Hardly," came a deep voice from just behind her, Isaac having come in from the kitchen, wearing a pink apron over his denim coveralls, stoic bronze face and dull brown eyes fixed on the paper as he read it from over Agatha's head, "You said they are likely to have gone into hiding, Dean?"

The teenager nodded, adding, "If I were them, I wouldn't even _be_ in the country with all this going on."

"Where _would_ you go, were that the case?" Stacey asked, tilting her head and smiling at him in a way that made Dean's stomach do backflips. ' _Damn hormones…_ '

Ignoring the sensation, the Gryffindor student thought about what he knew of the Trio for a moment before answering, "France, probably. Harry's on good terms with that Delacour bird from the Triwizard, and Hermione knows French, I think. Plus…" he looked at Agatha and Isaac, who'd been listening closely, and added in a quieter tone, "France was where the Order was supposed to rendezvous, if things went sour."

Agatha scoffed again, "Say it for what it is, Thomas; things've gone _tits-up_ , is what they've done," she sighed, walking back into the living room, chimera, Muggleborn and maybe-man following, "On top o' this," the werewolf waved the crumpled paper in her hand as she started pacing in front of the fireplace, the older woman's Scottish accent bleeding into her tone as she became more heated, "that right tosser Scabior's been snooping around more; according to Gina and Tom, e's lookin' for Muggleborn that're hidin' out," she gave Dean a pointed look, while the young man in question winced and Stacey moved closer to him, her smile fading a bit, "And iffin' they find _ye_ , only a matter a' time till they find _us_ , and I sure as _shite_ don't want Ol' Snakeface getting 'is mitts on Stacey 'ere."

"Let him _try_ ," growled the chimera, eyes flashing and tail snapping side to side in agitation, "I won't be locked up again."

"And you won't," smiled Dean; he'd not gone out of the safety of their shared flat just to pick up a paper. Before 6th year ended, he'd spoken with Neville; the two roommates had set up a dead-drop in Muggle London, near Diagon Alley, so they could exchange messages in the event of things going… well, _tits-up_ , "I got a letter from Neville Longbottom; he says things are starting to quiet down up in the Midlands. I _know_ you don't want to leave the house, Agatha," he added placatingly when the werewolf started growling, Isaac gently placing a massive hand on her shoulder to calm her, "but if we stay here much longer, _someone's going to find us_."

Fidgeting a bit, Stacey put in nervously, "But… we don't have any money, and there's nowhere in the Midlands we can go…"

A wispy male voice came from the basement door, meaning Tommy and Gina had been listening in, " _The vampire covens would take us in. They wouldn't join You-Know-Who because he wanted them preying on Muggles, and the last thing our kind needs is the eyes of the ICW watching our every move. Again. There's a redoubt north of York that we can go to._ "

Agatha nodded hesitantly, and then added, "There's still the issue of money, and getting there."

" _You let_ me _worry about that, Agatha; no-one will see us,_ " another wispy voice, this one feminine and edged with mischief, came from the basement.

"Then we're agreed?" Isaac's deep, calming voice filled the room; once everyone had nodded or grumbled their assent, the large probably-not-a-man smiled and turned back to the kitchen, "Then enough of all this doom and gloom, for it's time for lunch!"

And there was much rejoicing.

 **[5]**

"Oh, this is _hilarious_ , yes it is," Hermione Granger grinned at the breakfast table, reading the main article of the _Daily Prophet_ Andromeda had managed to acquire after Apparating to Dijon and back; she'd needed potions supplies, her private stores depleted from healing the Trio, so the older Tonks woman had gone out before breakfast to hit the Apothecary before the Beauxbatons back-to-school rush hit. She'd seen the special edition issue of the _Prophet_ being put out at the local bookstore (which Hermione had resolved to ask about later) and had immediately picked several up for the Order and DA to pursue over breakfast.

Speaking of breakfast, the reactions of the other residents of the French villa had been… well, a mixed bag. Bill and Fleur had arrived first to find the Trio already tucking in; at least _they'd_ been cordial enough, Fleur only fussing a bit over their injuries while Bill took an interest in Harry's (apparently Goblin-forged and masterfully enchanted) prosthetic hand. Susan had arrived soon after with the girls, who had varying reactions: Lavender and Padma had nearly dissolved into tears at Ron's voice, while the rest of them had kept asking Hermione if she was alright; **she wasn't, not by a long shot** , but she'd smiled and happily informed them that she was recovering nicely, and her boys had been _so_ helpful.

The DA boys, led by Justin, Colin, Terry and the Weasley Twins, had entered the dining room next, making Hermione nervous **for some reason** ; however, Harry had eased the tension by assuring them the three of them were perfectly fine, and her Ron had cracked a joke at George about them both being saints (holey), which raised the laughter in the room and eased the tensions further.

Kingsley and Hestia's entrance had been uneventful, the two Aurors assuring the Trio that "justice would be served" in regards to their ordeal back at **Grimmauld**. Both Ron and Harry had subtly rolled their eyes while Hermione had to stifle a giggle at the uselessness of such assurances, as if the two Aurors had done anything beyond fleeing in the face of _Lestrange's_ search. She found that she was more assured by Harry and Ron's estimations from the night before rather than the empty words of two adults who were, more or less, sycophants of Dumbledore. The brunette witch resolved to only trust them at need.

Mrs. Weasley's reaction to their presence had been predictable and, in Hermione's case, **unwanted** ; she'd nearly drawn her wand when the matronly woman wrapped her in a more-delicate-than-usual hug, like the younger witch was **made of glass** or something, all while blubbering and crying and carrying on, at least until her husband pulled her up and had her sit at the opposite end of the table to give the three some space, though Hermione still spotted both older Weasleys sending concerned and **pitying** glances their way.

Andromeda's timely arrival, just as everyone was finishing up Kreacher's wonderfully cooked English breakfast, was, therefore, a relief. Though Hermione wondered why no one else was finding any humor in the fact that Riddle had decided to go with more carrot than stick, oh yes she was, especially now that the **corpse-fucker** was in charge.

"You think this is _funny_ , Hermione?" came Remus Lupin's incredulous (and, once again, predictable) query from further up the table, where he was sat at Kingsley's right, Auror Tonks on his other side, "You realize that Hitler did the same thing-"

"Yes, yes, the so-called Final Solution that gave Grindelwald his test subjects," waved Hermione dismissively, glancing at her Harry, who was leaning forward at the DA's end of the table, elbows on the surface, staring at Kingsley over the tops of his laced fingers, "The difference, and the reason this is so _funny_ , Professor Lupin, is that I'm fairly certain they're _serious_ ," she giggled, grinning at the adults, "A Pureblood supremacist movement helping Muggleborn children 'acclimate to the Magical World's rich and storied culture and traditions'; that's the funniest thing I've heard all _year_!"

" _Dunno, 'Mione… I think that Death Eater saying 'he thought it was a good idea at the time' takes the prize_ ," her Ron murmured across from her, a smirk of his own playing on his face as he read over Susan's shoulder as the Hufflepuff frowned at the editorial, " _Plus, if they're serious… and if it works, it'll be harder to discredit them when we strike back_."

"Ordinarily, mate, I'd agree with you," Harry commented dryly, his gaze never leaving the other side of the table, "But, given what we know about Riddle and the actions he took to keep himself from dying…" seeing the small smirk on her Harry's face made Hermione ever so giddy! She'd started feeling better about the idea of being around other men yesterday afternoon, which led to her wanting to meet with the DA and Order, but her Ron and Harry wanted to make sure all their points were covered, from the Death Eater's information on his comrades to the Horcruxes.

 _But now we're all here!_

 _We can start planning for our **revenge**!_

 _Eeeeee!_

Across the table, Kingsley blinked at the Boy-Who-Lived, "Riddle? Does this have something to do with the mission Dumbledore gave you three?" At this point, everyone was looking at the Trio with varying degrees of interest; Hermione grinned even _wider_ as she reached for her bag to collect her notebook while Ron smiled and replied briefly.

" _It does, though we're altering the mission; instead of just locating the objects You-Know-Who used, we'll be joining you in directing the resistance against his plans_."

Mr. Weasley shook his head as Hermione placed her notebook on her lap and listened to the byplay attentively, "Ron, there no longer _is_ a resistance. Anyone who would've helped us is either keeping out of sight due to fear, or dead. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named played us too well. Everyone who would've openly supported defeating him is in this room."

" _Wrong_ ," snapped Harry dismissively, causing everyone except Ron and Hermione to flinch, "Firstly, Arthur, quite a few people remember what _he_ did last time he rose; the French, at least, won't stand for the British Ministry basically kidnapping children and raising them as though the Muggle world didn't exist, especially when it's obvious that Death Eaters are pulling the strings," Fleur nodded slowly in agreement at this, but, to Hermione's glee, her Harry wasn't done, "and secondly: when it becomes known what _he_ did, what Dumbledore and I discovered Riddle did to make himself immortal, the entire world _will_ turn its back on him."

"W-What do you mean?" Parvati asked shakily, eyes wide with worry, "He's _really_ immortal?"

Kingsley cleared his throat, "Maybe some of us should leave-"

"Oh no, they shouldn't," Hermione simpered, her grin matching Kingsley's frown, "No more secrets; that's what nearly destroyed us last time. Dumbledore may not have wanted this knowledge spread out amongst us, in fear that one of us might be captured, but now-"

The dark-skinned Auror's voice, while still calm, had a hard undertone to it, "You three aren't in charge of the Order; there's a certain way we do things that have kept us all alive, and airing secrets to schoolchildren _isn't one of them_." Several members of the DA shifted in their seats, clearly not at all pleased by Kingsley's statement, at least by Hermione's observation.

 _Good thing we're not planning on keeping you in charge._

 _We'd all be **dead** inside of two months, oh yes we would._

That, and it was a weak argument, seeing as Harry shattered it with his next statement, "That's funny, Kingsley, seeing as your choice to keep certain people in the know while keeping others ignorant is the sole reason we're in this mess." When the Auror, not to mention Professor Lupin, looked about to reprimand him, he cut across both with a steel tone, "After all, you chose to trust _Mundungus Fletcher_ with safe-house information, and then let him run about with _no oversight whatsoever_ ," Harry leaned back in his chair, glaring at the confused-looking Auror, practically daring him to respond.

Bill, however, pieced it together first, "Harry, are you saying Fletcher got captured?"

Ron scoffed, " _If only it were that simple, Bill_."

It was then Hermione decided to chip in cheerfully, "He went and got drunk in Knockturn Alley after nicking some valuables out of Grimmauld Place; Kreacher kicked him out before he could take too much, but that didn't stop him from telling his **Death Eater drinking buddy of eight years** ," her voice suddenly took the tone of nails on a chalkboard, making Lavender lean away from her slightly, " **not only how to find Grimmauld Place, but _where several other Order safe-houses were_ …** including Prewitt Manor, oh yes he did!"

"HE _WHAT_?!" Mrs. Weasley roared in fury, which pretty much kicked off a storm of indignant and confused yelling: Kingsley and Lupin trying to restore order, Susan snarling down the DA so they wouldn't do something they'd regret to the adults, Mr. Weasley trying to keep his wife calm as the witch in question looked ready to spill blood and his son's wife let out a rather impressive stream of expletives directed at Fletcher in general and his questionable lifestyle in particular… in French; Andromeda simply shook her head at the insanity going on around her and went back to her tea and breakfast, mouthing ' _I told you so_ ,' in her now furiously red-haired daughter's direction.

Meanwhile, Harry sipped a coffee that had just appeared in front of him (black, with a spoon of honey, lukewarm) as Hermione placed her notebook on the table and let the ghost of a smile cross her face.

 ** _Just as we planned_.**

Ron let out a shrill whistle, effectively silencing the room minus a "Damnit, Ron!" from a sensitive-eared Katie, before growling, " _I get that most of us should still be in school, but could everyone_ try _to act with some measure of responsibility? This is a war council, not a Common Room._ "

"How do you know this?" Kingsley whispered angrily into the resulting quiet, looking at Harry sternly as the raven-haired young man calmly sipped his coffee, "Did the ones who… who captured you three-"

"You mean the fifteen Death Eaters who tortured us nearly to death?" Hermione grinned at Harry's conversational riposte to Kingsley's dithering around the issue, "They didn't say anything of _worth_ at the time, no, but we _did_ manage to take one of them prisoner, the one Fletcher told Order secrets to. All our information on the Death Eater's wider organization, the Knights of Walpurgis, comes from him."

Remus looked impressed, while Tonks just looked murderous, which showed through in her tone, "Right. Where is the bastard?" Some of the DA had the same looks on their faces, not to mention the righteous anger Mrs. Weasley had at the thought of having her son's torturer in arm's reach.

Andromeda, on the other hand… "You've been keeping a Death Eater in _my house_ without telling me?!"

"No worries, Andromeda," chirped Hermione, opening her notebook to the pages containing Mr. "Dead Man" Donovan's interrogation, "The House-Elves took care of his various needs and kept him out of sight until Harry asked to see him, yes they did!" she grinned up the table at all her friends and the senior members of Dumbledore's Order, and finished, "Unfortunately, you won't be able to talk to him without a séance or something, seeing as I killed him, yes I did!"

"And before **any of you** object to that course of action," Harry's steely voice sliced through everyone's shock like a Cutting Curse, "allow me to inform you that this was the Death Eater in charge at Grimmauld, who cut off my arm, put a Piercing curse through Ron's neck, and _ripped out Hermione's eyes_. Honestly," he concluded thoughtfully, tapping a metal finger against his staff's ruby, "death might have been too good for him."

Thankfully, Susan didn't let the shocked and disgusted silence that followed this declaration last too long, "But you've got enough information on the Death Eaters that we know what to do next, right?"

" _Mostly_ ," rasped Ron, smiling slightly, " _At the moment, what we need to do is take out Riddle's support structure, which_ should _be easier after Lestrange's trial_ ," he tapped the _Prophet_ in front of Susan as everyone at the table hung on his words, thoughts filled with the desire for retribution on the Trio's behalf, " _Once she becomes a more public figure, she'll make an easier target to get at; right now, however, she's practically untouchable, hiding behind Malfoy Manor's wards, so we'll have to be patient. She's his general, the Right Hand of the Dark Lord; without her, Riddle's forces will turn to him for orders, and seeing as he allows her a good bit of leeway in composing Death Eater missions, he'll be scrambling to keep up with all that's happening around him while keeping his forces in line. Lucius Malfoy is another high-priority target, as is Lestrange's husband; the two of them together make up most of Riddle's financial support. Sure_ ," Ron's slight smirk turned into a full grin, " _he's got the Ministry coffers to back him up, and most of his big followers_ do _have healthy accounts, but that's chump change compared to those two families. Take these three down, and his empire will quickly start to crumble_."

"The sinews of war are infinite money," quoted Hermione once her Ron finished, "What was true in Cicero's day remains true now. We take away his best enforcer and his financial suppliers, and he _will_ lose this war."

"Well said," Justin allowed, speaking up for the first time, "But… well, how do we get at them?"

"That's further down the line, Justin," Harry replied, "Right now, what we need to do is prepare for that day: work on your wand-work, get quick on your feet (Susan, you've had physical training, can you help with that? Good), enchant our robes against harmful magic (Lavender, Parvati, see Hermione after this meeting), and most importantly, we need more information," his brow furrowed, "They have Ginny and Luna, and we _will_ rescue them. I have a plan for that, but it's _very_ risky; if it's successful, however, Riddle will have a hard time coming back from it."

Kingsley frowned at him, "We'll go over that in private later, if that's okay with you Harry?" the teenager nodded in acquiescence before the tall Auror continued in a harder voice, "Now, as for _Fletcher_ ; he's not here," the Twin's and Andromeda's simultaneous ' _Thank goodness!_ ' eased the remaining tension a notch, "But we don't know where he is. We need to take care of this leak before it becomes a real issue. Ideas?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell them about the Elves' current mission when-

 _Crack!_ "-ROFF ME, YOU DAMN ELVES!"

Fletcher appeared out of thin air behind Harry's chair, Dobby and Winky hitting him with Beater's bats wherever they could reach, his broken wand spraying sparks every few seconds as he tried to throw the Elves off him, while they in turn tried to subdue him with repeated _thwacks_ of their bats and squeaky swearing.

Hermione was on her feet in an instant, wand out and trying to get a clear shot for a Stunner (she wanted to try a Cruciatus, but most of the room probably wouldn't appreciate his **agonized screams** , no they wouldn't) while Ron, Susan and most of the DA and Order did the same around her.

The only one unmoved by the events was Harry, who smiled in satisfaction, picking up his staff and saying in a clear voice, "Kreacher, if you would be so kind?"

A heavy, cast iron pot appeared out of thin air about a foot over Fletcher's head, immediately falling victim to gravity's unforgiving pull and slamming into the smuggler's head with a resounding CLANG! The bald man swayed on his feet a moment, eyes crossing, before slumping face-first into the floor, Dobby and Winky squeaking as they fell with him.

Harry rose to his feet to look down at the battered and bruised Elves and **stupid man** , still smiling as he said, "Thank you Kreacher. Make our guest comfortable in the usual place," Fletcher vanished with a quiet _pop_ of displaced air as everyone slowly put their wands away, "Thank you Dobby, Winky. Go get patched up and have a rest; you've earned it," both young Elves bowed happily before popping away.

"Well," breathed Susan in relief, speaking for everyone, "That takes care of the leak. Is there anything else?"

"One moment," Hermione chirped, flipping to her most recent 'To Do' list and crossing 'Capture Fletcher' out. "Now," still standing, she clapped her hands and looked to the adults in general and Bill and Remus in particular, "Has anyone here ever heard of _Horcruxes_?"

The resulting shouts of disbelief, indignation, outrage and horror were just what Hermione had suspected, given what she'd found in one of the books from the Black Lord's study.

It was also _exactly_ the reaction she'd wanted; grinning internally, thinking of the dog-whistle that she'd carved from Donovan's femur hanging from a cord around her neck, the brunette witch couldn't wait to see the look on _Voldemort's_ face when he realized a Mudblood tore his empire down and **buried him**.

 _You think yourself a master of **fear** , Riddle?_

 _**I will show you true terror**_ **,** _oh yes I will!_

 **[5]**

" _Wake him. As unpleasantly as possible without hurting him_ ," Ron whispered to Winky, who nodded and popped away.

After Hermione made the big reveal, the meeting had lasted through lunch and into the early afternoon, the adults in the room wanting to know _every little detail_ of what he, Harry and Hermione had planned for destroying Riddle's Horcruxes and tearing his organization of **racist pigs** asunder.

Ms. Vance had been the most vocal of detractors to their plan to strike back, especially when Hermione outlined what their 'distraction' entailed; Kingsley had been on the fence, while his own father had looked like he wanted to ground Ron's girlfriend/best friend for life, and his mom… Ron thought he'd seen his Mum angry before, but now she looked ready to duel Riddle herself!

Remus looked like he would disagree, as did the DA, until Harry told them what Donovan said Greyback did with his captives. In detail. Even Parvati, who was as much of a pacifist as one could be in war, had asked if there were any spots on the teams that would be going back into Britain; to that end, Hermione was currently with Susan, going over who would be on which team, as they oversaw Tonks and Vance training the DA in physical fitness and advanced spellcraft on the Villa grounds.

Speaking of spellcraft, Lavender, Padma and Justin had come up with an idea on how to gather information safely; well, not _quite_ safely, Ron mentally amended. The idea was fraught with risks, but if it worked, the Order would have a better idea on what Voldemort's forces were doing in Britain.

Justin had the idea, originally, to attach a bunch of Omnioculars, modified to detect magical energy instead of light, to the bottom of a broom or magic carpet and flying it high over Britain; he'd gotten the idea from a Muggle airplane called the SR-71 Blackbird. Once Hermione and Justin (gushingly) explained the aircraft's specifications, particularly how bloody _fast_ it was, Ron was firmly of the opinion that having a raging erection _had_ to be a requirement for piloting the thing; that, and they _so needed one_.

To wit, Padma had explained that her family were the inventors of a material that could survive extreme heat and cold; living near the Himalayas made such things necessary, apparently. Anyway, the silver stuff (which neither Parvati nor Padma were willing to tell how it was made, or what it was called) stayed as a liquid potion until it cooled to room temperature, whereupon it hardened to the consistency of stiff leather. Its most common use was as clothing, though its magical conductivity meant it could also be used to make magical tents; the best part was that you could dip a broom into it, while in potion form, and you'd have a broom that could survive flying over the unforgiving wastes of the world's highest mountains.

Lavender had taken charge at that point, and suggested that, instead of using their limited funds to buy a ton of Omnioculars, they would take one apart and replicate its recording enchantments; his ex-girlfriend stated that she could make a fold-up 'sail' that would attach to the underside of the broom's handle, and the 'sail' would be covered in pieces of enchanted glass that were sensitive to magical phenomena. Hermione had all but fainted at the possibilities, especially now that she knew how the Dark Mark worked from examining Donovan's corpse; she was confident that, once the sail was completed, they would be able to record Death Eater movement patterns and sous out where most of their safe-houses and bases were.

The biggest problem was this: in order for the plan to work, someone would have to fly a broom over the North Sea to Scotland, then ascend to 50,000 feet above sea level (to avoid running into Muggle airplanes), unfurl the 'sail', and _then_ make _two_ sweeps of the British Iles (down to London, up to Scotland, then back to the Villa) so that they could make sure that nothing was missed in the first sweep. That meant that the broom's pilot would spend two days, at least, nearly ten _miles_ in the air, with no hope of rescue if something went wrong, they'd have to be awake for the whole mission (three cheers for Pepper-Up potions), and, finally, they had to do all of it without being noticed by anyone, Magical or Muggle.

Suicidal? Of course. But they didn't have many alternatives to information gathering, beyond what they could glean from the various surrounding Ministries, which Kingsley was regularly infiltrating under Moody's invisibility cloak.

Speaking of which, Harry was with the adults and Fleur, talking politics; the international community had to be taken into consideration, especially if Riddle was going for legitimacy with his new government. From what Ron could tell, Germany, Spain, Portugal and Italy were right out as potential allies; their administrations were publicly supporting everything Britain was doing, from the ICW floor to each Ministry building, and were even planning on instituting similar measures in their own countries. Conversely, France, Bulgaria, Scandinavia, The Balkans and Poland had read between the lines, if the international broadsheets were to be believed, and were preparing for a possible repeat of Grindlewald's takeover, and would no doubt jump at the chance to stop it before it started. At least, according to Fleur and his brother Charlie's last report.

Russia had been silent thus far, but all it would take was a single act to set the world on fire with war; if Russia declared for either side, MACUSA would get involved, as would its allies. A Magical World War…

Ronald Weasley didn't know whether to be terrified or **excited** at such a prospect.

But first things first: Kreacher had told Hermione and himself, and Girl-Harry when she got out of the shower over a week ago, the story of the locket. While it _was_ rather sad, Ron was more concerned with what happened to the filthy thing, thinking it might be in some landfill from when they cleaned **Grimmauld Place**. Luckily, that wasn't the case, according to Kreacher.

Which led to… _now_.

Mundungus Fletcher was tied to the very same chair _Donovan_ had died in, slumped in unconsciousness, with Ron standing in front of him, looking down at the piece of **filth**. They'd let the bastard stew for a week before deciding on how to interrogate him; Kingsley's only condition was that Hermione not be allowed into the room, and that a Dicta-Quill recorded the interview. The Trio agreed, even Hermione; she'd told Harry and himself, after they'd retired for the night, that if she was in the same room as Fletcher, she'd probably beat him to death with his own arm.

So Harry had flipped a Sickle to decide who got to question their latest prisoner. Ron won, and decided to take a few members of the Order along to appease Kingsley. The Auror might not be solely in charge anymore, but his field experience couldn't be overlooked; better to have him on their side when the shite hit the fan than not.

To that end, Bill stood on his right, Remus on his left, just outside the circle of light brought by a hanging lamp, the only source of light in the hidden cell in the Villa's basement; Andromeda leaned against the doorframe, the only exit, her Healer bag sitting next to her feet… just in case things got… **messy**.

Winky reappeared with a barely-heard _pop_ , a bucket of grey, putrid water sloshing in her tiny hands. She then heaved the contents at Fletcher, dousing him thoroughly and causing the **slime-ball** to splutter awake, gagging at the water's smell.

Remus recoiled in the corner of Ron's eye, wrinkling his sensitive nose, "Winky, _where_ did you get that water from?"

"Mop-water froms when Dobby cleans the loos, Mister Loopy, sir!" the female elf chirped merrily while Fletcher swore inventively. Ron grinned; Winky had been particularly upset at Dobby's lingering shiner, caused by one of Fletcher's spells when they were bringing him in. Bruise balm didn't work, but Hermione was confident she could find an appropriate healing spell.

"Fuggin' Elf!" gagged Fletcher, "Lemme outta this chair! Untie me!"

" ** _Shut the fuck up, traitor_.**"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop at Ron's growled order, Fletcher looking about for the speaker with wild, fearful eyes, "W-Who's tha'?! I 'ent betray'd no-one!"

Ron took one step forward, into the light. Fletcher flinched at seeing him, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, which, in Ron's mind, was an _idea_ … " _I said, **shut. The. Fuck. Up**._" Fletcher stayed shut up. The tall, scarred redhead took a rattling breath and said in as even a tone he could muster, " _Kreacher?_ " _Pop._ " _What did this… sack of **troll shite** … have on him when Winky and Dobby brought him in_?"

"N-Now listen 'ere!" stuttered the sack of shite, raising Ron's ire, "I got all tha' stuff fair an' square, see-GUUH!"

The last was caused by Remus' fist crashing into his face, knocking both wizard and chair to the ground. The older werewolf's eyes flashed yellow as he growled, "Keep your mouth _shut_ unless we ask you something, _Dung_."

Kreacher's raspy, hate-filled voice rattled from behind Ron, "The Heir's silver service, some picture frames, a few books on advanced-ed magical theory (which I's have givens to Missy), three vases, ands some of dead Mistress's jewelsies," then the ancient Elf hissed darkly, "He dids not haves the Locket, Heir's Wheezy, sir."

Bill righted the chair with a flick of his wand, drawing a ' _Bloody were_ ' from Fletcher at the brutal motion, before saying politely, " _Now_ you may talk, Dung."

Around a bleeding mouth, Fletcher moaned, "There was a couple 'a lockets in tha' jewel'ry box! Could, ah…" he paled, noticing Ron's withering glare, and continued in a small voice, "ye be more, ah, specific?"

Remus dug in his pocket before producing the fake locket, which Hermione had given him on request before practically fleeing outside, still not entirely comfortable around men other than Harry and Ron; he held it up in front of Dung's face, snarling, "Look familiar?"

"Err," the bald smuggler squinted at the heavy pendant before nodding, "Yeah… I dunt got it anymore, but I can tell ye who does!" he added hastily when Ron drew his wand.

" ** _Who_**?"

Fletcher hesitated a moment before replying unsteadily, "I dunno 'er name, but I'll ne'er ferget 'er face; ugly as sin, I tell ye. Looked like a toad, she did, 'cept uglier, 'specially in tha' pink getup 'o 'ers. Told me she'd take me ta Azkaban fer stealin', 'less I give 'er the locket," he shrugged as much as he could and finished, "Was a gaudy bloody thing, anyway. Prolly wouldn'ta got more 'n a Galleon fer it, if tha'."

Sighing in exasperation, Ron dragged his left hand down his face while Remus looked at him seriously, "Umbridge."

" _Yeah, I know, thanks Remus_ ," the youngest Weasley boy added this information to their current plan for striking back, before smiling slightly at the former DADA professor, " _Luckily for us, this just means we can hit two owls with one stone_." The werewolf blinked thoughtfully for a moment before smirking and nodding in agreement.

Then Fletcher decided to speak up, "Tha's what ye wanted, yeah? Now, untie me!"

Andromeda spoke then, from the doorway, " _That_ , Dung, was just the boys here trying to find out what you did with something _crucial_ to the war effort," the smuggler in question flinched at the Black sister's flinty tone, "Now, if you would be _so **very** kind_, tell us _why_ , in the name of _**Merlin**_ , you told your _drinking buddy_ how to find the Order's British safe-houses?"

He didn't answer immediately, just looked at the group surrounding him in confusion, before stupidly asking, "Wha', you mean ol' Donny? Ee's a good sort, I thought e'd-"

" ** _You thought_** ," Ron sneered, Harry and Hermione's tortured wails echoing in his mind, while Bill bristled beside him and Remus stiffened in disgust, " _Andromeda, wait outside._ "

Andromeda picked up her bag and opened the door while saying, "I'd advise not killing him, you three; Kingsley might not agree with that course of action," a pause, "Then again, the poor man's _wife_ is dead because of this _shite_ , so he might not care either way. Morgana knows I don't," before slamming the door shut behind her.

Dung jerked wildly in the chair, "Wha?! I-I-I didn' do nuffin!"

" _News flash, Fletcher: Alex Donovan was a **fucking DEATH EATER**_ ," hissed Ron viciously, " ** _He shot me in the neck with a Piercing Curse, cut off Harry's right hand… I'm not even going to_ start _with what that_ sick fuck _did to Hermione_**."

"That's not even counting that you told the bastard how to find Prewitt Manor," added Bill in a dangerous whisper, gripping his wand tightly, the scars Greyback gave him twisting his features into an inhuman mask as he glared down at Fletcher, "Do you know how many we lost there, _Dung_? To _Bellatrix Lestrange_ , no less?! That monster has my _baby sister_ , _because of **you**!_"

" _I didn't know!_ " sobbed Fletcher, fearing for his life even as he tried to free himself, " _Please! I wouldn'ta told 'im if I knew!_ "

"Be that as it may, you bloody well _knew_ , Dung, that the Order relies on our ability to move in _secret_ ," growled Remus, eyes glittering with barely restrained savageness, "to provide safety for those who _need it_ , and that some secrets _need to be kept_. We don't give a _rat's arse_ if you had every reason to trust _ol' Donny_ ," the werewolf sneered as Fletcher gasped in fear, "You damn-near _single-handedly_ destroyed the Order of the Phoenix _and_ Dumbledore's Army. You're never seeing the sun again, you _bastard_."

Silence fell, broken by Fletcher's terrified gasps.

Ron's blue eyes gleamed in the low light as he stated in a tone thick with **hate** , " _We're not going to kill you, Dung. No, this is just a… preview, I guess, of what **Harry's** going to do to you. See, you still have contacts in the criminal underworld, contacts we might need. **You** , on the other hand, we **don't** need. Once Harry and Hermione have what they need… **then** you'll be killed_. _Till then, you'll have to face our… **displeasure**._" the furious Gryffindor raised his wand, pointing it at a quivering Fletcher's shoulder, " ** _You can scream if you want_**."

 **[5]**

Katie didn't know whether to be supremely embarrassed or absolutely livid, given the situation, "Are we _done yet_?!"

"It'll be ready when it's ready, Katie," soothed Padma, kneeling by the former Chaser's right thigh, "Just be patient."

' _Maybe I shouldn't have volunteered… Oh who am I kidding? No one else is in any shape to do this!_ ' Katie fumed silently as Padma and Lavender kept pulling the silvery, skintight suit onto her naked body in the girl's bedroom, Hermione and Susan wiping some sort of protective potion onto her exposed skin with paintbrushes as they went.

When 'Operation Hedwig' had been proposed, most of the Order and DA had been aghast at the sheer riskiness of the plan; Katie, however, had seen it as one hell of a challenge. If they pulled it off, the Death Eaters wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late. It was for that reason she'd stood up to volunteer to be the one flying Harry's modified Firebolt, once the mission's equipment had been completed.

It had taken Hermione, Padma, Harry, Lavender, Professor Lupin and Mrs. Weasley a week and a half to get everything together: the bodysuit (' _More like a_ catsuit! _'_ Katie had thought when she first saw it) went on first, and would keep everything from the top of Katie's neck to the tips of her toes insulated from the low air pressure and cold temperatures at the altitudes she'd be flying at; a set of specially-made robes of the same material would go on over it, complete with thick gloves, boots, and a two-layer hood that fitted to her scalp (Parvati had been entirely _too happy_ to shave her bald, and it had only been Andromeda's assurances that she could grow her hair back that kept the older Gryffindor from strangling the Indian girl), along with a facemask that covered everything but her eyes, which had a Bubble-Head charm built into it, as well as two straws on either side of her mouth (one for a nutrient potion so she wouldn't starve, another containing extra-strength Pepper-Up) that were connected to Expansion Charms inside the robes. She had two tanks of nutrient potion and Pepper-Up each, but each tank was only one liter, due to issues that Hermione ran into in getting the Expansion Charms on the flight-suit to remain stable; once those ran out, Katie was on her own.

"Eep!" the brown haired girl squeaked when the suit went up her groin and wrapped around her hips and bum, snapping tightly against her skin, "Easy on the goods, girls!"

"Sorry!" Lavender apologized sheepishly, only stopping to allow Hermione to paint more potion onto Katie's midriff.

Said gaunt-eyed girl grinned, "Can you imagine how _awkward_ this would be, if we had to do this to Harry or Ron?" Padma and Lavender snickered while Katie blushed and Susan managed to do both at the same time.

Much to their chagrin and relief, neither boy was in any condition to go on the mission, and had been vehemently denied permission by both Mrs. Weasley and Andromeda Tonks; Ron's trachea still wasn't in good enough shape for anything more strenuous than ground-based exercise, and, between Harry's right hand and stiff knee, no one wanted the Boy-Who-Lived anywhere _near_ a broom. Fred and George, the only other possible candidates for the job, had been assigned a separate project, along with Colin and Kevin; all Katie knew about it was that there were Muggle explosives involved, which was enough for her to keep well enough away.

"Arms in, sexy," snarked Lavender, making Katie growl before carefully putting both her arms into the rubber-like tubes; once the silvery catsuit came up to her elbows, the rest of it suddenly snapped into place, from her sizeable breasts to the top of her neck, with a painful-sounding _slap!_

"YEEEE _OUCH_! WHAT THE _FUCK_ , HERMIONE?!" Katie shrieked; if it wasn't for the fact that her legs and torso were being held in place by a Paralysis Hex, she'd be on the floor writhing in pain, ' _Holy Merlin, my poor nips! Ooooh, I'm gonna_ curse _that bookworm!_ '

"Oh, please. We told you that was going to happen, yes we did," said bookworm flippantly dismissed Katie's pain, tucking her wand back into her blouse as she walked over to where the mission robes were displayed on a mannequin.

"Gotta admit, it _does_ look good on you, Katie," grinned Padma, much to the Chaser's grumbling; the bodysuit was truly skintight, making her look like a silver angel without wings… or hair.

Huffing, Katie ignored Padma's teasing and grabbed the robes from a returning Hermione, "Well _I_ think I look ridiculous! Did you _have_ to shave me bald?!"

"I'm going to have to agree with Padma," came a slightly raspy voice from the bedroom doorway, "You pull that look off rather well."

Katie put the robes on as fast as she could, hiding her indecency as Harry chuckled behind her, somewhat thankful he couldn't see her blushing face; she did see Hermione grin and clap her hands together in glee, "The Firebolt's done, my Harry?"

The tapping of Harry's cane mixed with the sounds of Lavender and Padma buckling the suit's boots, gloves and facemask to Katie's robes, before the young man in question came into his former teammate's view, the modified Firebolt in his free hand; it was now the same silvery color of her robes, the closed spy sail attached to the underside, a collection of dials and switches now adorning the haft where she would be gripping the broom, "Yep, Parvati just finished up. Keep in mind, Katie," Harry added to her, lone green eye conveying the seriousness of his statement, "that I've disabled most of the broom's safety features; it's a _lot_ faster, now, and it doesn't have an altitude limiting charm anymore, but that also means it has faster breaks. So, unless you want to go flying off the thing, go easy on turns and be mindful of your speed when you slow down," and he handed the Firebolt to Katie.

Who nearly dropped it in shock, seeing as the whole thing was vibrating with barely contained magics; suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea, "Err… you _have_ tested this thing, right Harry?"

The raven-haired Seeker nodded, "Tonks took it up for a few minutes. She said it's like riding a pissed-off dragon through a dense forest."

Humming thoughtfully, Hermione snatched the broom from Katie, "In that case, I should add an Inertia Negating enchantment, just so she doesn't go flying or liquefies herself from breaking, yes I will," and headed over to the bench where Katie's goggles still lay to enchant the broom; the goggles would help Katie keep the broom level while in flight, as well as show her where she was supposed to go in the event she got lost by way of using magically dense locations on the ground as waypoints: Hogsmede and the London Alleys were her main targets, but, according to Hermione, she'd be able to use other locations as she found them, as the lenses of the goggles were enchanted in the same way as the sail, allowing her to see those magically dense areas of Britain.

So Katie stood there in full gear, getting a feel for the straws in her mask and making sure the Warming Charms worked while Gryffindor's resident bookworm added another complex charm to the Firebolt; after a minute, Susan broke the silence, "Hermione? I don't mean to pry, but… um…"

"Go on, Susan," Hermione encouraged distractedly from the table, not looking up.

"Well… what's up with you saying 'yes it is' all the time?"

The brunette witch's shoulders stiffened slightly, but it was Harry, who was now sitting on Padma's bed, looking over the mission suit's design notes, who answered Susan's question: "It's a verbal tic from when she was younger; don't worry about it," his tone was slightly clipped, giving the impression that this wasn't something Hermione would want to discuss.

Susan raised her hands in surrender and assured them both, "No worries, I was just curious. Mostly because it's kind of cute," the Bones witch smiled over at Hermione's back as the girl relaxed and murmured a quiet ' _thank you_ ' before continuing her work.

One thing that had become evident to Katie in the past two weeks was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's sudden overprotectiveness wherever Hermione was concerned; no one but Susan, Andromeda and the Twins were allowed in their shared room. Given what little she knew about what had happened to the three nigh-inseparable friends, Katie really couldn't blame the two boys for looking out for their girl.

Though, that didn't stop her from imagining what went on behind closed doors; glancing over at Susan, who was now standing quite close to Harry and speaking quietly with him, Katie wondered if the Bones Heiress ever participated in any supposed trysts. The three of them seemed to trust the pretty redhead well enough…

' _Head outta the clouds, Bell_!' she mentally chided herself, ' _You're about to do something so bloody crazy that even_ Oliver _would think you're insane. Focus!_ '

"Done!" chirped Hermione, skipping back over to Katie and handing her the broom; it still practically _buzzed_ with magic, but it _did_ seem slightly calmer than before, "Now get out there, and do try not to die!"

"Oh yeah, that was a wonderful inspirational speech, Granger," deadpanned Lavender before the buxom blonde turned to Katie and said soothingly, "You're going to be _fine_ , Katie; the enchantments you're wearing will keep you perfectly safe, so long as you don't push them too hard. So just stick to the plan, watch out for airplanes-"

"And if you know where Alicia and Angelina are," Harry cut in, standing with Susan's help and walking over to his Quidditch teammate, "Tell them to meet Gred and Forge at the Louvre on September first."

Nodding, Katie let Lavender apply the goggles to her face with a Runes-based Sticking Charm, "Stick to the plan, don't get seen, tell the girls to get their butts to Paris," Harry's responding grin gave her all the confidence she needed for this, but she still asked, "Aren't you going to tell me to bring your broom back in one piece?"

Shaking his head, Harry clapped his left hand on her shoulder, "I could give a shite about a broom, Katie; _you_ better come back in one piece."

"Don't I always?" with that final quip, Katie turned away to head for the nearest balcony so she could get a move on, ' _And when I_ do _come back, I better get a huge trophy or a bar of chocolate or some steaming hot sex for breaking every bloody broom-based record!_ '

 **[5]**

' ** _Only_** _a few **more days**_ ,' Harry thought, sitting at the desk in the Trio's room as he went over the final draft of 'Operation Stinger', as Fred and George had taken to calling it.

Katie's mission was supposed to last four days, five at maximum; she'd come back after _seven days_ , nearly frozen to her broom and grinning like a maniac.

It took Hermione, Padma, Tonks, Kingsley, Colin, and Justin two days to render all the pictures the Spy Sail had gathered into map form; apparently, Katie had noticed, due to her goggle's enchantments, that some Death Eaters left Britain, and had pursued them accordingly after checking in with her fellow Chasers, which had taken her all the way across France and over the Alps to Italy, then back over the mountains, over Switzerland into southern Germany and back to the Villa.

What she'd found assured even the most vocal detractors of this Operation that it _would_ succeed with minimal fuss.

Riddle's main forces were mostly gathered in two locations: the Ministry building and, Arthur assured them it was the right location, Malfoy Manor. There were constant comings and goings from both buildings, but that wasn't where his more… _interesting_ forces were located.

The Dementors had mostly been split between two areas: Azkaban and the northern coast of Wales. Katie had managed to avoid the demon's attention enough to notice that there were small groups of the monsters roaming Britain, in fours and fives. The giants were being kept in a magically hidden valley (it had lit up like a beacon in her goggles and on the images from the Sail) just south of Hadrian's Wall, and were rarely moved from there. The werewolves, on the other hand…

Harry grinned at the memory of _that_ bit of information; only a few of Greyback's pack were still in the forest near Malfoy Manor. The rest were slowly making their way across the French countryside, west to east, no doubt searching for the Order remnants; at their present rate of speed, it would take them three weeks to make it to Lorraine, and even _then_ they would have to get past Andromeda's concealing spells, which included a powerfully subtle Confoundus Curse that would affect anyone who didn't already know about the Villa. In Harry's opinion, it was even better protection than the Fidellus.

The reason for his humor? Well, over the month that had passed since **the hallway** , Harry had managed to perfect something that, until (s)he became whole, had only existed as a theory Harriet had developed in her boredom: Runic Traps.

A logical evolution of Harry's healing Markers, it was like playing a game of connect-the-dots, except the dots were Markers and the picture was a Rune; invisible and _nearly_ undetectable (Hermione found that its only weakness was Mage-Sight, a spell few witches or wizards bothered learning due to its complexity), the Traps were now Harry's best advantage against Riddle's greater experience and extensive magical repertoire. Hours upon hours of practicing them had resulted in what amounted to spell mines; if someone got near them or stepped on one, the Markers would activate and…

It depended, really, on the spell (s)he wrote out in Runes; the outer edge of the Villa's property, for example, had Stunner, Body-Bind, and Disarming jinxes covering the forest floor, just inside the Confoundus Ward, set to go off if someone broke Andromeda's wards. Anyone getting past those initial Traps would start running into the _nastier_ fare: Reductors, Witherers, Fire-Whips, Dark Cutters (courtesy the Black Lord's library), Bone-Breakers, even set Transfigurations that would create lions, manticores, and a forty-foot _basilisk_ that would attack anyone not already keyed into the wards. Greyback and his weres would get torn apart before they ever saw the Villa.

' _Would've been **nice, though,** if I **could replicate** the venom, **or the** killing gaze_,' Harry mused wistfully, glancing at the wall clock. Eleven at night, and dear Hermione was _still_ in her workshop, no doubt working on that Anti-Magic Field for when became the Operation's distraction. ' ** _Hermione probably_** _won't be **coming to** bed tonight **, and Ron's** still in **Romania, checking** on Charlie's **progress**._' Sighing, Harry went over the plan one more time, picking up the antique cavalry revolver Mr. Weasley gave him two days ago (which (s)he quickly enchanted with some _choice_ spells) and started wiping the barrel while taking one final look at the Operation steps:

 **Mission will be timed to coincide with the trial of Bellatrix Lestrange (BLACK QUEEN).**

 **1.** **Teams Otter, Stag, and Terrier, using House-Elves, are to infiltrate Ministry, Manor, and Hogwarts, respectively.**

 **2.** **Teams Stag (Harry, Fred, George, Padma, N. Tonks, Remus, A. Tonks) and Terrier (Ron, Susan, Hestia, Parvati, Colin, Ernie, Anthony) stand by at ward edges of their targets while Team Otter moves into Ministry Building, via janitor access.**

 **3.** **Otter Actual (Hermione) stands by in Ministry Atrium to deploy Dark Mark Suppressing Ward (DMSW) while Team Otter (Justin, Kevin, Hannah, Terry) move to capture Target Toad. Once Toad has been secured, Team Otter will exfill to Toad's property for questioning without Otter Actual, who will remain in Atrium to provide distraction once BLACK QUEEN appears to speak with press. Once Team Otter have Item L, they are to terminate Toad and exfill using Portkeys to rendezvous point V-1. If Item L is not in Toad's possession, Toad is to be terminated. Team Otter is to then notify Team Leaders for advisement before moving to acquire Item L, unless Item is already in DARK LORD'S possession; in this case, Team Otter is to immediately exfill to point V-Final. Team Stag will complete mission. Deadly force is authorized.**

 **4.** **Once distraction begins, Teams Stag and Terrier are to deploy their DMSWs and begin their tasks in Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts School:**

 **i)** **Team Stag is to capture nearest DE guard, interrogate as to locations of prisoners Horse and Hare, and proceed with rescue mission, if tenable, before destroying Manor; if mission is untenable or prisoners are deceased, Team Stag will destroy Manor if possible and use exfill Portkeys ASAP. Deadly force is authorized.**

 **ii)** **Team Terrier is to gain access to Hogwarts by secret tunnel, locate Gardener (Neville), and appraise him of overall situation. Once done, if possible, Team Terrier is to escort any students or teachers willing to joint DA or OotP to exfill point, destroying secret tunnels in the process. Deadly force is authorized.**

 **iii)** **Operation ends when Otter Actual arrives at point V-3 to help oversee Item L's destruction, if Team Otter successfully acquired the Item from Toad. Otherwise, all teams must report in at point V-Final before Operation is declared over.**

Little could go wrong with Harry's or Ron's parts in this operation; their duties were fairly straightforward, and they weren't expecting much resistance. No, Harry's problem with this Operation was Hermione's part in it: he'd given her _carte blanche_ regarding how she was to deal with Bellatrix, but she'd refused to accept an emergency Portkey in case things went wrong; on top of that, she was going to be stuck in a room filled with Aurors, members of the Press, and who-knows-how-many Death Eaters. If anything happened to her…

' ** _Stop_** _thinking like **that**_ ,' Harry chided him/herself, ' ** _She_** _knows what **she's doing**. Trust her_,' sighing again, Harry put her/his revolver down, figuring (s)he should get some shut-eye, despite not wanting to do so without the other two parts of his/her heart in bed with her/him.

So of _course_ that's when the door opened, admitting a house-robe clad Susan with a hopeful yet shy smile on her face, "Hey..." she glanced at his desk, "still can't sleep?"

' ** _I guess_ **_I'm not **the only** one who's **hopeless** …_' "No…" Harry rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly back at Susan as she stepped fully into the room and shut the door, "It's not quite the same without them, you know?"

Those soft brown eyes of hers, so like Ginny's, became playful as she drawled, "I wonder what Ginny would think, you shacking up with her brother," she stepped a _bit closer, hips swaying slightly_ …

While Harry smiled and shook _her_ head, raven hair spilling down her shoulders as she pulled her shirt off and tossed into the hamper; walking toward the bed and proceeding to disrobe further, Harry replied, "That's the _least_ of her worries, Sue. Me being… well, _me_ …"

"Shh," a warm, womanly body embraced Harry from behind, making the ( **some** times) girl blush at her friend and confidant's forwardness, "Let me in? Please? Just one night, Harry? Before the world catches fire?"

' ** _How_** _the bloody **hells do** I say **no to** that?!_' Harry thought, breathing quickly in fear and _want_ , as she slowly turned in Susan's arms to face her…

And _forgot about everything_.

Voldemort.

Horcruxes.

Grimmauld Place.

The war.

For one night, Harry Potter and Susan Bones let themselves forget about every responsibility they had, all their plans, and all their doubts about what was to come.

For one night, Susan and Harry made themselves vulnerable to someone other than their closest friends, and, upon waking, found they didn't regret it, because it felt _wonderful and **freeing.**_

 _It would also be the last time, they'd be able to forget._

 **[5]**

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 **[5]**

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 **[5]**

 **A/N:**

 **Blegh.**

 **Bear with me please, we'll get past this fluffy crap soon enough.**

 **Next chapter will examine what happened on the other side of the fence…**

 **WHENEVER I CHOOSE TO UPDATE THIS STORY AGAIN.**

 **Twice, I felt like discontinuing this damnable scree, only to remind myself that I will NEVER abandon a story to incompletion.**

 **It'll just be awhile before you all get some Death Eater goodness.**

 **One more chapter. And then…**

 **Until next time, dear readers! Ta-ta!**

 **~Baked**


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